I Was Hoping It Would Be You
by a.fictional.love
Summary: A series of one shots and drabbles of all kinds - thoughts going through characters' heads, scenes that should have happened but didn't, fluff and nonsense, AUs when creativity strikes, responses to quotations. Requests welcomed.
1. Surprise

**Hello lovely readers! Thank you for taking a look here. These have been sitting untouched in a file on my computer since the summer. I never got around to posting them, and then school came and all my time went POOF! And now that I've found a little more time and I'm off my reading binge (if you haven't yet, go read _The Mortal Instruments _and _The Infernal Devices_ series by Cassandra Clare. Seriously, go. Right now) and OUAT is on hiatus, I figured I could post some of these.**

**This drabble and the next were not the first ones I wrote, but I thought it fitting to start off where they did. So enough talk, let the drabbles commence!  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters :'(**

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1\. Surprise

It didn't make sense for there to be a survivor amidst the chaos. Cora was ruthless and meticulous, a combination of traits that gave Emma a mental image of the woman pleasantly strolling between the corpses the littered the ground, checking to make sure they were all dead.

Something was wrong.

As far as Emma could see, there wasn't anything wrong with this man. The rust-colored smears on his face that she had originally thought were blood had turned out to be dirt. Blood would have made it more convincing. So not only was there a survivor, but he wasn't even injured.

Something was very wrong.

She wasn't buying his story. Her internal lie detector refused to let her believe the cowardly actions he claimed he took. He was an excellent liar, she admitted, but there was a spark in his crystal blue eyes that made her certain there were still things he was keeping from them.

It was so satisfying to hear him admit it.

The one thing she hadn't expected was recognizing his name. It never failed to trigger her cynicism when she met a new fairytale character, but this time was different. Snow White was young and beautiful; Prince Charming was handsome and brave; the Evil Queen was dark and devious. That's how they were.

Captain Hook had chicken legs, a bad perm, and a lavender feather that clashed horrifically with his red coat. This was not Captain Hook. This man had an intelligent, mischievous air about him that would have given the cartoon Peter Pan a run for his money. And his eyes were too pretty. It was a bit of a pity that the ogres were going to make dinner out of him.

And then he started talking again. For a moment, she thought it may have been cowardice driving his pleas, and she was sure the prospect of being an ogre's next meal was some fuel for him, but they really weren't pleas. They were demands. She couldn't help her jaw from dropping slightly; he was tied to a tree and he was trying to negotiate as if he was worth something, as if they needed him and his invaluable services. He wasn't begging at all. In fact, she noted, he was seething when he told them of his reason for going to Storybrooke: Revenge.

And that, she knew, was the truth.

This was most definitely not the Captain Hook she would have expected. This was someone far more dangerous.

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**Reviews are the best, and requests are more than welcome!**


	2. Respect

**If you liked what was in the previous drabble enough to continue here, thanks for reading! Here's Hook's POV.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters. One day I might get over that fact. **

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2\. Respect

He wished the princess with the auburn hair would speak to him; she looked gullible. There was just something in those big, watery doe eyes. From a distance he could already tell he was winning her over with his pathetic tale, earning her pity and trust. She looked at him as someone would look at a lost and bedraggled puppy.

The one with the short, black hair would have been his second choice. She mentioned a husband - and grandson, though he didn't quite understand that part - so she was a family woman. He could spin something about a wife or child or sister into his story, and it seemed best to take the tremble out of his voice if he was around her, pretend to steel himself and be strong in the face of what he had supposedly just witnessed.

The woman in armor was one he'd rather not approach. He could tell she wasn't that big, but there was something about her that told him not to underestimate her - perhaps it was the sword hanging at her side, or the daggers he could see tucked into her boot and belt. It would take a little more time to analyze her current stoic countenance.

And then there was the blonde...well, she was a hard ass if he ever saw one. One eyebrow seemed to be arched whenever she looked at him, in a constant state of doubt. Gorgeous, but impossible; he could feed her as much of the story as he wanted, but she wasn't having any of it.

He couldn't blame her. The lines Cora told him to use were far more contemptible than touching. Funny how he'd found someone who agreed with him: this woman who crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze and tied him to a tree.

It wasn't about how well he could act or spin his tale of tears; she came in and took over his show. She was in charge now.

She had seen right through him.

She had bested him.

And if he was being completely honest with himself, threatening to make him an ogre's dinner only made him respect her more.

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**If you liked it, review! If you want to see more, send me a request!**


	3. Want

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters. But I do own a Captain Hook t-shirt, so at least there's something.**

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3\. Want

He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much. It shouldn't have bothered him that much.

Actually, it shouldn't have bothered him at all. He'd gotten the bean - not fairly, but he rarely did things that could be considered "fair," especially by the people of Storybrooke; Charming's morals practically needed their own seat at the kitchen table.

His didn't. Once upon a time, they had been like that, but not anymore.

So why was he not gone yet? Why was he still holding the bean in his hand? He ran his thumb along the smooth surface. Its power made his palm tingle.

All he had to do was throw it into the water. It was such a simple action, and then he'd be back in his world, on his ship, doing whatever the bloody hell he wanted to do.

He could have been there and back twice at this point. Why was he still thinking about her and her stupid town and her silly people and her problems that were most certainly not his.

He shook his head, unable to believe that it had come to this. Annoyance in every step, he walked away from the starboard side and went below deck to his cabin. At his desk, he pulled out the middle drawer on the left and removed the false bottom.

There it was, sitting exactly where it had been left when he had been entrusted with it. He'd been allowed full use, but never found the need. He always knew exactly what he wanted.

Until now.

Frustration about the whole situation resurfaced. He grabbed the small box and slammed the drawer shut.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered a minute later, back on the deck again. To his left was a crate where he placed the bean. On his right, a mile away but still visible, was the town.

Looking down at the box in his hand, an unfortunate feeling developed in the pit of his stomach and hardened like a rock. He was positive he knew what the outcome would be, but he flipped the lid up anyway.

The pointer spun vigorously, slowed, and finally stopped.

It wasn't pointing left.

"Damn," he breathed. Wanting to want something wasn't enough.

He flicked the pointer, making it spin again. This time, the stop was much more abrupt.

It still wasn't pointing left.

"I'm going to regret this."

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**Reviews make my heart sing! Also, anyone know where the compass comes from? ;)**


	4. Yearn

**For anyone who guessed - yes! The compass was my little tribute to Pirates of the Caribbean. I don't know, seemed appropriate, and it fit my purposes well. Anyway, let's continue with some Regina sass.**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters**

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4\. Yearn

Regina was well aware that the Un-Charmings were physically and mentally capable of looking after a teenage boy whose only preoccupation was getting to the next level in his video game, but criticizing anyone who was taking care of Henry was a natural response for her. She couldn't help herself.

And choosing the pirate...now that was something she could find a lot to say about.

She found no other way of summing him up than as a raging lunatic with a hook for a hand, wondering if it would elicit a comment from Emma, who usually just rolled her eyes behind Regina's back.

But not today. This time, the Savior said something.

"I trust him," she explained, lowering her voice. "He brought me back to Storybrooke and he didn't have to."

"Of course he brought you back," Regina replied, noting that Emma had defended Hook as a person more so than she did her decision to leave Henry in his charge.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emma challenged.

Regina turned, actually shocked that the blonde seemed not to know what she was talking about. Scene after scene played in Regina's mind like a slideshow; she'd caught the glances when they were in Neverland, the staring when they were in Granny's, the whispers and close proximity on the day everyone had said goodbye. Emma's blank look seemed sincere, but it would be ridiculous for her not to have a clue. No matter what Regina said, she knew Emma wasn't stupid. "Seriously? You're going to pretend everyone doesn't see the yearning looks and doey eyes?"

"I don't yearn," Emma said flatly.

"Well, maybe," Regina admitted, believing that, with a lot of ignoring and deluding, it could be true for Emma. For the other half of the pairing...not so much. She lowered her voice, like she was sharing a secret, a wicked grin on her face. "But he does."

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**Anyone else love Regina? I ****just**** think she's such a fun character! **


	5. Good

**Hope you all enjoyed Regina, Queen of Sass. A little more serious here, with what was definitely up there on the list of "heart-wrenching, life-ruining OUAT moments." **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters. But I do own two cats, so that's something :D**

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5\. Good

"Emma," he breathes. He stops her without thinking, an unconscious part of his mind compelling his mouth to open and his feet to walk. Now he has to say something. Anything.

He sees the sadness glimmer in her eyes. The harsh reality that this is all coming to an end slaps him in the face. He can't bear his last sight of her to be one with tears on her face.

"That's quite the vessel you captain there, Swan," he jokes, indicating the little bug and its cheerful yellow hue, out of place in these last few torturous minutes. His jest manages to make her smile, but it is a sad smile. He knows he won't accomplish much more than that.

"There's not a day that will go by that I won't think of you," he says quietly. Surely by now, she is well aware of his feelings, and that she occupies the majority of his thoughts, and that the only thing he wants to do is hold her in his arms and make her forget every bad thing magic has ever done to her.

He wonders if the line he has just stepped over is one she doesn't want anyone to cross, wonders if he has just slammed into one of the many walls she puts up around her heart.

Her green eyes shining through tears, she replies simply.

"Good."

Relief surges through him, and he can't help it as the corners of his mouth pull up with a trace of happiness. For once, none of her walls are barring his entrance. Her gaze even flits briefly to his lips, and back to his eyes, and he's overwhelmed by the urge to draw her towards him.

But there is another blockade, the impending distance. He can see in her eyes that they both acknowledge that it exists, and that it isn't fair. Pulling her closer now will do nothing to ease the imminent separation.

He takes a step back, then another, feeling as if he has to drag himself through a kind of resistance, his willpower trying to overcome fate.

He lets her go, repeating her last word to himself over and over as he watches her walk away, drive away, and disappear in the haze of purple smoke.

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**I watched this scene on repeat - my heart broke every single time - and Hook's line is kind of hard to hear and it sounds like "There's not a day will go by I won't think of you" but that was kind of grammatically "uhhhhh" so I did the best I could. Reviews are welcome, as are requests, and any opportunities to meet Colin! 3**


	6. Characters

**There was a suggestion for a scene of my own devising rather than one where I journey into the thoughts going through characters' heads. Sorry if I get carried away with that, I have this thing about analyzing characters and figuring out why they do what they do. But I have some scenes that aren't like that, and here's one I had fun writing and hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or any of the affiliated characters**

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6\. Characters

Killian observed the cover art on the box for the movie, confused by one thing.

"They all look so happy flying around with him. When do they find out Pan is evil?"

"Well..." Emma couldn't think of any other way to explain it. "They don't."

Killian blinked a few times. "They don't?" he repeated, obviously confused.

"He's not the bad guy. You're the bad guy."

"I'm the bad guy?" he exclaimed. "Now, that's not to say I wasn't always a villain, but to make him out to be the hero and my adversary..." He actually sounded genuinely insulted.

Emma rubbed a hand up and down his arm. "It's just a kids' movie," she reminded him. He nodded, but didn't say anything as he returned his attention to the screen, crossing his arms across his chest. She scooted closer to him, pulling one of his arms around her, and succeeded in making him smile.

But when the animated Captain Hook entered, his jaw fell. "You have got to be kidding," he breathed, aghast as he beheld the silly feather and bright red outfit. "So this is what you meant by waxed mustaches and perms. They are bad," he grumbled, but kept watching, and kept up his occasional personal commentary until the film was over.

"That was awful," he criticized as soon as the credits started to roll. "I mean, I suppose Tinkerbell wasn't too bad, and Smee was accurate to a degree, but everything else..." he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief. "And what was with the Crocodile taking me prisoner? I don't even put up a fight, it's pathetic! And one other thing bothered me."

She smiled a little at his ramble and at the fact that he was getting so worked up about a children's film. He seemed more appalled than annoyed now, and she was thoroughly entertained. "Yes?"

"Gold is the Crocodile."

"Yes."

"He's also the Beast from the other movie with Belle."

"Yes."

"And he's Rumplestiltskin."

"Yes."

Killian leaned back, sinking into the couch cushions. "So basically, he beats me, gets a castle and a princess, and spins straw into gold, while I'm a pitiful villain with skinny legs, a mountain of a nose, and ugly hair?"

Emma's lips trembled with laughter, so she just nodded.

Killian frowned. "I'm not so sure about this Disney fellow."

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**Leave a review if you feel motivated! Suggestions are always welcome! (And I know Disney didn't come up with Peter Pan)**


	7. Why

**Here's another AU! An imaginary scene where Emma confronts Killian about his wacko behavior after Zelena cursed his lips and promised to kill everyone. Kinda angsty, not usually my thing but I figured I'd give it a try. Let me know your thoughts!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters**

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7\. Why

"You know, I can tell that you're avoiding me," she says gently. "Why?" Her eyes express the confusion she feels. She's always confused around him lately.

"Nothing," he mumbles. He looks down at the water, staring at his reflection: A selfish pirate trying so desperately to be a hero. Inwardly, he scoffs, wondering cynically how long he can delude himself with that charade.

Next to his reflection is Emma's. She is looking it him. "I can tell when you're lying," she reminds him lightly, and tries again. "What's wrong?"

The reasons swirl in his mind, circling and repeating themselves until he thinks they'll echo forever, tormenting him with the reminder that she can never know. He only shakes his head.

Her hand covers his, and he stiffens, pulling it away. "I can't." His words are sharp, terse.

In the water, he sees one of her eyebrows raise in disbelief. She isn't one for being kept out of things, and as this involves her, he can't blame her. "Can't or won't?" she interrogates.

There is no hesitation. "Can't."

To smother the faint glimmer of hope and happiness she has only just adopted since her return from New York, to give to her the burden of knowing that the only choice she has is determining the time of the death sentences for all her friends and family...

_Lose your magic or watch everyone you love die._

_He could never do that to her._

She is silent after his response, prompting him forward, quietly. He can't stand to see her hurt, and something inside of him burns knowing that he is the one causing her pain. "You, Emma, are quite possibly the strongest and most selfless person I have ever known. Permit me for once to follow your example."

"For once?" she asks, not willing to reveal how unsettled she is by his sincerity. Her hand gestures vaguely out to the sea. "What about what you just did for Ariel?"

"It wasn't me," he responds, quickly and somewhat bitterly. "I had no part in it." He closes his eyes, disgusted by the man he sees in the water below, and anxiously runs his fingers through his hair.

"Okay, fine, you didn't." Emma pulls away slightly, wondering why he is so adamant, so frustrated. His evasiveness makes her all the more determined to continue. "But you're the furthest thing from a coward."

His voice is harsh as he degrades himself. "Agree to disagree, Swan." He shakes his head to himself and begins to stand. "I should be going."

She can do nothing but gape at this depressed man, who is most certainly not the pirate she has grown accustomed to, has grown much too fond of lately. In less than two days, the cocky, provocative attitude has disappeared, only to be replaced by this empty shell. Already, she misses their witty banter, the way he watches her when he thinks she doesn't notice, the way her heart falters when she catches him looking at her.

Her hand snatches his, refusing to let go as he stiffens at the contact again. "I miss you," she admits before she can stop herself. He turns his head, and a brief spark of hope begins to develop within her; at least he is no longer trying to walk away.

He keeps his gaze on their hands, the source of connection between them, recognizing with an ache that this will be the extent of their relationship. He considers trying to run again, but she intertwines their fingers and he understands he has been caught. She caught him a long time ago.

His eyes close, his lips part, as if her action alone has the ability to drive him wild. "Talk to me," she entreats. "Don't shut me out. Please, Killian." The sound of his name on her lips is a lullaby, luring him.

Involuntarily, he starts to lean forward, and memories come flooding back - memories of giants and magic beans, of sword fights and arguments, of a stolen kiss and the force of a knee to a rather uncomfortable body part.

To him, it was over a year spent fulfilling the vow that he would think everyday of her smile and her laugh, her wit and her courage...

But if he could last this long, he could last another day.

He stopped but a few inches from her face. "I can't." He says it gently, and the softened tone seems to soften her response.

"Why not?"

The real reason is one he cannot risk; he would rather die than allow her family one instant of peril, than allow her one moment of dread. He tells her the next best thing, one of the truths he is still certain of.

He lifts his head, braces himself, and looks her in the eyes. She searches his face, immediately hunting for the explanation for the forlorn demeanor that he has demonstrated all week. "I care too much."

Despite the gravity expressed on his countenance, she has to smile. "You do understand that doesn't make much sense."

"On the contrary, it makes perfect sense."

He hesitates before he finally turns away, giving her enough time to see the apology in his eyes and wonder why.

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**I'm one of those people that yells at the TV so there was a lot of distress on my part when I was watching those episodes and I wanted to explore what may have been going on in Killian's noble, adorable head. Too much drama? Let me know your thoughts! **


	8. Denim

**This one popped into my head back when the whole "OH MY GOSH HE'S GONNA BE IN NORMAL CLOTHES!" stuff was going on - quite a while ago, I think, just shows how long these have been sitting in a file on my computer. Anyway, I thought it would be fun to think about it. Kinda on the short side, but enjoy!**

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8\. Denim

They weren't black.

They were blue. Not even a dark, navy color. Undeniably and by all definitions not black.

"You can't wear black all the time," Emma told him.

He frowned. "Why not?" he challenged, genuinely interested. Was this some other ridiculous law he was unfamiliar with?

"Because that combined with the eyeliner makes you look emo." So it wasn't a law, it was an Emma Rule. Which, he was starting to realize, were much more heavily enforced than laws. "Please just try them." Her hand pressed the jeans against his chest and she looked up at him. "Please?"

He sighed and conceded. It was a pair of pants, and he didn't have to like them, just put them on. In the grand scheme of things, it was probably the simplest thing he'd ever done for her. It was certainly easier than hunting down magic beans and bouncing across realms and traveling through time.

And so, he pulled on the blue pants, along with the boots and t-shirt Emma have given him. At least they were black.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror.

He stared.

He blinked a few times.

He looked like David and Leroy and Henry. He looked like an inhabitant of Storybrooke.

He looked like he belonged.

"So?" Emma called from the other room. "What do you think?"

He couldn't help the corners of his mouth from pulling up. "They feel good."

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**Kinda cute, maybe? Let me know your thoughts! Requests are always welcome if there's something you'd like to see!**


	9. Smile

**Thank you all who have been reviewing/favoriting/following! I got such lovely responses to the last post, Denim, and I'm glad you enjoyed it! Now going back to the angst, briefly. I was thinking about this scene and how it felt like a punch to the gut, did some exploring with it, and came up with this.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters. If I did we, wouldn't have had such a long hiatus (IT'S BACK TONIGHT! IT'S BACK IT'S BACK IT'S BACK! :D)**

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9\. Smile

He was walking slowly down the hall of the hospital, wondering what to say to her, when she turned and saw him, a smile on her face.

It wasn't a smirk or a tired smile or a halfhearted grin, which seemed to be all anyone could manage these days. It was an actual, brilliant smile, one that drew creases at the corners of her eyes and declared to the world that happiness still existed.

"Never thought I'd see one of those," he said quietly as he approached the hospital room.

Emma stepped away from her post at the doorway and moved into the hall, eyebrows raised at him in amusement. "It's called a baby."

"No, Swan." His gaze drifted to her lips again, then quickly returned to her eyes. "A smile."

Her grin spread, telling of triumph. "We won."

His own smile fell. He didn't need reminding, because their victory had not come without complications; complications of water and darkness and a kiss he couldn't remember and wasn't sure he would have allowed to happen had he been given a choice; complications that led to his predicament at hand, in which he didn't know what to say to the woman who kissed him after saying she never would and gave up her magic to save his life.

She would have to be dense to be unaware of his feelings, and if there was one thing he knew about Emma Swan since she had called him out on day one, it was that she was most certainly not dense.

So what, exactly, did it mean that he was standing there speaking to her, heart still beating, rather than the alternative Zelena had planned for him? Did it even mean anything at all? He assumed he was making a greater deal of it than was necessary as he realized several moments of silence had passed. The least he could do was express his gratitude that his lungs were filled with air instead of water...and hope it would begin a certain conversation, the thought of which was making his heart jump erratically.

"With all the chaos," he began, remaining deceptively calm as he glanced at the Charmings and the new addition to their family, "I never got the chance to say thank you."

"You really think I'd let you drown?" she asked, indicating hints of incredulity.

Her response elevated his confidence, slightly. It was a good sign that she didn't want him dead. He remembered the last words they'd shared, part of another expressive argument where she closed off her feelings and he bared his soul. He decided to stay away from that path.

"Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain?" he joked.

And then her smile grew. He hadn't thought that was possible, but there it was, spreading across her face and announcing her current lightheartedness.

When the conversation had started, Hook felt as if he had been walking on egg shells, unsure of which direction to take and if he would step on a sore spot and leave something chipped or cracked or completely ruined. Now, he had found his footing, seeming to glide easily along on ice, smooth and steady and a wonderful change from their last argument.

Something else had been bothering him, and he found himself able to ask, "Has your power returned now that Zelena has been defeated?"

For a brief moment, Emma appeared hesitant, and he immediately knew her answer.

"No."

Inwardly, he winced. He truly had been hoping for the return of her magic; it was part of who she was, and for it not to have returned meant that Zelena had the power to take away someone's magic permanently. It meant that Emma was no longer the Savior.

And it was his fault. "I'm sorry, Love."

"It's okay," she replied, not quite as dejected as he would have thought she'd be. She was still grinning. "I won't need it in New York."

Her smile slapped him in the face. He replayed the words in his head, making sure they were what he thought he had heard.

He felt as if the ground below him had suddenly cracked and split. He was frozen in place and, an intense, burning, stinging sensation spread through his chest.

She called to Henry and led her son into the hospital room, but Hook didn't hear anything. He unsteadily made his way to the doorframe and remained there. When Snow smiled at him, radiating the incandescent joy of motherhood, he gave her a quick, rather forced grin that was a pathetic attempt at happiness because he couldn't even try.

He didn't understand. Even if her magic wasn't to return, Henry was happy here, and her parents just had another baby - how could she leave? Now that she knew the truth, how could she go back to living the lie? Was she deluding herself?

Was he deluding himself? Those powers would be difficult to work with in New York, but without them, she was just ordinary, like she wanted to be.

Kissing him wasn't so much of a chore for her. It meant losing her magic, but obviously that was a price she was more than happy to pay. Saving his life was a fortunate side effect.

He couldn't even be angry at her. He couldn't feel much of any emotion; he was still frozen in the doorway, the fake smile plastered on his face hiding his attempts to thaw his heart.

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**Thoughts? Feelings? Put them in the little box below and tell me what you think! And, most of all, enjoy the return of OUAT!**


	10. Usual

**Hello all! Here's a little bit of cuteness to brighten up your day**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters**

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10\. Usual

The bell tinkled as he opened the door to Granny's, but he barely noticed; he had grown so accustomed to it. "Morning, Killian," Granny said after a brief look up. "The usual?"

He smiled as he took the seat at the counter, the stool he always sat at. "What else would I get?"

Granny couldn't argue with that. She filled the mug with black coffee and placed it before him. A blueberry muffin quickly followed.

"Emma coming too?"

Killian nodded, his mouth full of a piece of muffin. "And Henry," he added after he swallowed.

"Know if he wants french toast or pancakes today?"

"Pancakes."

Not long after, the bell tinkled again. He didn't even bother looking up; he knew who it was.

"Morning." The words came to his ears softly, gently, from a voice he adored. A grin spread across his face; no matter how many times it happened, he couldn't help it.

He turned on his stool to see the familiar face framed by blonde hair. "Morning, Love." She kissed his cheek as she stole a piece of his breakfast. "You do have your own, you know," he reminded her, pointing to the coffee cake muffin that was sitting on a plate beside a mug of steaming hot cocoa, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. Her usual.

She took her seat on the stool beside him. "I know." Her grin was cocky, her eyes laughing.

"All right then." His eyebrows shot up, amusement all over his face, a plan forming in his mind. "Just you wait, Swan."

Henry rolled his eyes. They always did that fluffy romantic stuff. But he couldn't care much when Granny slid in front of him a plate of pancakes, accompanied by a small pitcher of syrup. "Thanks for ordering, Killian," he said as he drizzled the syrup and began to dig in. He washed down the first few mouthfuls with his own mug of cinnamon topped cocoa.

Emma observed all the food before them. "Thanks," she repeated, bumping her knee against his.

"I hardly did anything," he admitted. "Granny just knows our usual."

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**Sometimes we all just need a little fluff in our lives :)**


	11. Captain

**Soo that awkward moment when you think it's only been two weeks since you last updated and then you realize it's actually been almost three...oops. But it all worked out because I had this in the works for a while, and then in this past Sunday's episode they brought back the lovely Rolly Joger ;) so I found this one kinda fitting to post with that in mind. We always knew Killian would get some kind of boat back.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters.**

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**11\. Captain**

"Hook," people used to say, their lips pulled up in disgust or their eyes wide with fear.

He'd reply disdainfully, "That would be Captain Hook."

He could remember walking down the streets of Storybrooke and getting those sideways glances from people. They hadn't know him, they hadn't trusted him. And who could blame them? He wouldn't have trusted him either. He had been a villain. He hadn't been one of them.

But now, he was. They looked at him with a smile and a wave. Like they weren't wondering if he was going to stick them with his hook.

"Hi, Killian!"

Not Hook. Killian. He used to be bothered when people left out the 'Captain,' but not anymore.

The Jolly Roger was somewhere far away, cutting through the waves, sails filled with wind. A part of him would always be with his ship, out on the water. That's probably why he always found himself at the harbor when he had nothing else to do.

Or, when Emma told him to meet her there, which happened less frequently.

The breeze from the water brushed his face, smelling slightly of fish, but he could ignore that and pick out the familiar salty aroma.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind, and he didn't need to turn around to see who it was. A hand wrapped around his. "Hello, Love." He greeted Emma with a kiss. "Do I get to know what I'm doing here?"

Her eyes were shining with eagerness. "Come on." She continued to hold his hand, leading him down the steps and onto the wooden dock.

Her obvious enthusiasm peaked his curiosity, and he couldn't help smiling at her excitement. "Emma?"

"Well...I was thinking about our conversation at Granny's that night." She tucked her hair behind her ear, her zeal in no way diminished though her voice had grown quiet. "When you told me you outran the curse and sold your ship for me."

He took a step forward, lessening the distance between them. "Aye."

"First you were in the navy, then you captained the Jolly Roger."

"Aye," he repeated, a little confused, wondering where she was going with this.

"Sailing is a part of you. It's who you are. You're a captain."

His hand cupped her face. "Emma, Love, I know that. But I chose to leave that behind." His hand slid to the back of her neck, gently pulling her forward to rest her forehead against his. "I chose you, and I don't regret it for a moment."

She raised her eyes to meet his. "But what if you could have both?"

He pulled away, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...well..." She pointed over his shoulder. He spun.

Out no more than a quarter of a mile in the water was a small schooner, two masts, maybe forty feet long. He took in the sight, his jaw dropping.

"You got me a boat?" He turned back around to face her. She saw the disbelief in his eyes. "Emma, I can't-"

"You have no choice. Nonrefundable. No exchanges."

"No, Emma, it's too much." But he couldn't take his eyes off of it. It wasn't the Jolly, but it was his.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I wish you could see your face right now. You're meant to be on the water, Killian. It's part of who you are. If you can sell your ship for me, the least I can do is get you another." She looked down. "And I know it won't be the same as the Jolly Roger, but -"

He took her face in his hands and kissed her, pouring into it the same passion as when he kissed her that night at Granny's. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Just one thing," she added. "You have to take me sailing first."

"I wouldn't have anyone else. Where would you like to go?"

She shrugged. "You're the captain."

* * *

**Eh, kinda fluffy, but we all know Killian is meant to be on the water**


	12. Trust

**Well it's been quite a day for me :/ aaand we all know there's some heavy Captain Swan stuff coming soon...Brace yourselves, mates. That being said, here's a little reminder to everyone of how far our ship has sailed.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or any of the affiliated characters. **

* * *

12\. Trust

"Try something new, Darling. It's called trust."

He spoke as if he expected her not to be familiar with the term, and there was a fairly large part of him that actually did think so. It had everything to do with the time she'd been in love, he was sure of it. Whatever had happened, it had left quite a scar. She tried to hide it, to bury it deep down and forget it existed, but he knew where to look; after all, he had a scar of his own. Much different, though, of course. Hers was newer, fresh, still healing, and she had channeled that frustration and doubt into building walls around her heart.

He, on the other hand, took all that pent up rage on a revenge mission.

Which was what he had to focus on now. He was used to people not trusting him; it was part of being a pirate, part of the revenge business. Still, something in his chest twinged when she returned the compass to her pocket. He understood, of course, given the suspicion surrounding their relationship and her obvious trust issues. It shouldn't have stung. Distrust hadn't bothered him in quite some time.

But it did. And he couldn't shake the desire to fix it.

He extended his hand to her. "Come on, let's go."

There was a moment of nothing, and then she took it. The sting eased, a grin spread across his face - he couldn't help it. He was remembering what it felt like to be believed, to be trusted, to be -

Shackled?

"What are you doing?" he muttered in astonishment. He blinked at the metal around his wrist. How had she bested him? Was she that good that he'd missed her plan from the beginning?

From the way she backed up, hesitation on her face, he knew that hadn't been the case.

"Emma, look at me," he practically begged. Since when did he beg? "Have I told you a lie?" He should have just shut up, or played the situation like the pirate captain he was. She already didn't trust him, why did anything else matter? "I brought you here, I risked my own safety to help you," he tried to reason. "The compass is in your hand, why do this to me now?" Why do this at all?

But he was sure he knew why. His guard had been falling, and hers was too well built to come down.

"I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you."

He couldn't say anything. She trusted him so much that she didn't trust him at all.

* * *

**For anyone who may be having a rough day, I highly recommend watching some of the more recent CS videos. The ones with scenes from 4B focus so much on Hook's face when he's looking at Emma and it's more than enough to make your heart melt **


	13. Ribbit

**Yeah so...that episode was, uh...yeah :/ I think it's time for some light, airy cheerfulness? Thank you to the reviewer who requested this! I haven't written anything new in quite some time, most of what I've been posting thus far was written about 9 months ago before school started and I had that thing called time. But here it is, hopefully it meets expectations!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters**

**Prompt: One where Killian is turned into a frog and Regina thinks it is really funny, and says something to Emma along the lines of 'pucker up savior.'**

* * *

13\. Ribbit

Even though it was Gold who had hired Henry to work in the antique shop, Belle did not mind at all having someone around to help.

Except once.

"You know this is broken, right?" Henry asked. It was almost six o'clock, the time when Emma - and probably Killian too - would come and pick Henry up for dinner at Granny's. He'd finished his cleaning and had moved on to his usual curiosity-fueled exploring around the shop.

"That what's broken?" Belle replied, looking up from the large, sturdy book she was reading.

Henry raised the wand he was holding so Belle could see the crack in the wood.

Belle's eyes widened. "Being broken doesn't mean it's any less powerful." Why did Henry always seem to find his way to the most volatile pieces of magic? "It's not exactly dangerous, but it's extremely spontaneous, and you should probably put it down."

"What's dangerous and spontaneous?" Emma asked. She and Killian had just entered the shop, the little bell above the door signaling their arrival.

"She said not dangerous," Henry corrected, holding up the cracked wand.

"But you should still put it down," Belle repeated.

Henry grinned sheepishly. He placed it back down on the counter, gently.

But apparently not gently enough.

Sparks flew from the tip as the wand made contact with the counter, and a blinding flash of green light forced the four in the antique shop to cover their eyes.

After a few moments, the light faded from the utterly silent room.

Emma was the first to realize. "Killian?" she asked, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. She immediately turned to Belle, frantic. "What just happened?"

"The wand," Belle said, coming from around the desk and moving towards Emma.

"Yeah, I know!" Panic was creeping into her voice. "You said it wasn't dangerous! Where the hell is he?"

Belle hesitated before answering. "Well," she said, her voice calm, "if I had to take a guess, I'd say there." Emma and Henry followed her pointing finger with their eyes.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Emma sighed. There on the floor, where Killian had been standing just a minute before, was a frog.

"I'll start looking for something," Belle said as Henry bent down to pick up the frog. "And we might want to call Regina."

"Only in this town," Emma grumbled as she and Henry walked out of the antique shop, frog in hand.

* * *

"You used a wand?" Regina exclaimed later when Henry relayed the highlight of his day.

"It was an accident," Henry explained. "I was putting the wand down - "

"Why did you have it in the first place? Why was it just laying around the shop like a toy?"

Henry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, I mean, it wasn't just laying there. I had to, um -" Regina held up a hand, stopping him in the middle of his tale. "Never mind," she sighed. "What happened?"

"I turned Killian into a frog."

Regina's mouth parted. She shut it, only to have it fall open again. She looked to Emma, who nodded and held up the frog, for whom they had found a clear, plastic container.

And then the laughter began.

"Regina?" Emma asked as the woman, the mayor of the town, the formal evil queen, doubled over in laughter. Emma folded her arms across her chest. "It really isn't that funny."

"Yes, it is," Regina replied, a bright smile on her face. "Nicely done, Henry."

"Really?" Henry perked up.

"REALLY?" Emma cried. "No, just tell me how to fix it. Belle's looking for something but she hasn't -"

Despite being red in the face from laughter, Regina still managed a slightly condescending look as she rolled her eyes at Emma. "There is no 'something' to find in a book. He's a frog, there's only one thing to do."

Emma stared at her blankly. "Wait, you're not implying-"

"Yes, I am."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Emma groaned

"Pucker up, Savior." Regina grinned as she looked at her son. "_Very_ nicely done, Henry."

"Is this ice cream worthy?" Henry asked, hope and mischief in his eyes.

"Oh, most definitely," Regina replied. She and Henry shared smiles, then looked straight at Emma's less than amused face.

"I'm taking this," Emma said, grabbing the container with the frog version of her boyfriend, "and leaving with what's left of my dignity."

"Ribbit, ribbit!" Regina called as Emma walked out the door.

* * *

"Only in this town," Emma mumbled again to herself when she was alone in the apartment and looking at the frog that was supposedly her boyfriend. She had placed him on the island in the kitchen. Could he hear her? Did he have any idea what was going on? "I'm sorry, but seriously, this is kind of ridiculous. Kiss a frog?" She leaned back and forth on her heels, putting off the inevitable.

"Kill a dragon, sure thing. Travel across realms, why not? Take down Cora and Peter Pan and Ice Queens, not a problem. But kiss a frog?" She sighed, crossing her arms on the island and placing her chin right in front of her green companion. "And it's not you, of course, it's just that you're a...frog, and frogs are, well..." She searched for the right word that could effectively communicate 'not human,' but fell short as she looked at the frog's face. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she could see Killian's expression, communicating an intense impatience.

"Oh, screw it," she muttered, right before shutting her eyes tight and pressing her lips to the rough, slightly slimy skin. Even with her eyes shut, she could see the flash of green light, and felt an immense relief pass through her. When it faded and she opened her eyes, Killian was sitting cross-legged on the island, the sight of which actually managed to elicit a laugh from them both.

"Ever thought you'd end up talking to a frog that much?" Killian asked.

"So you did hear everything?"

He nodded. "I've never seen Regina laugh that hard."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that was a little unnecessary."

Killian gave her a small half smile as he slid off the island and stood in front of her. "Come now, Love, everything turned out fine, and that woman doesn't often have reason to laugh."

He held out his arms, and she automatically leaned into his embrace, placing her head against his chest, and caught the familiar scent of leather and ocean. "Killian?"

"Yes, Love?"

"I'm very happy you don't smell like a frog."

* * *

**Cute? Maybe? Hopefully I did the prompt justice. The same person left another prompt in the reviews that I'll be working on, this week is a little on the lighter side work-wise so I think I'll be able to give it the time it deserves. Thanks for reading! As always, requests are welcome!**


	14. Vanilla

**I think Adam and Eddie are trying to destroy my life. There's just this ruthless, ominous air about the whole show these past couple episodes. Anyone else been feeling it? But anyway, I think we're in desperate need of some laughter and Captain Swan fluff, so I very quickly came up with this. Everyone's going on about happy endings, and what could be happier than ice cream? (Unless you're lactose intolerant, which I am, but still)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters. **

* * *

14\. Vanilla

Emma's expression had passed right over surprised and was now verging on horrified. "What do you mean you don't like it? It's chocolate!"

She had already ordered her ice cream - chocolate with chocolate chips - but Killian was still on samples. She put the plastic soon back in her styrofoam cup, seeming to stare him down.

Instinctively, he took a step back, her defensiveness regarding the ice cream flavor leaving him confused and slightly scared. "Well, I mean, it's not so bad," he explained, searching for the right words. "I just wouldn't be able to eat a whole cup of it. It's rather sweet."

Emma glanced down at her cup, remembering that she'd been thinking of adding chocolate syrup to the already chocolate-overloaded treat. Physicists and nutritionists could study all they wanted; there would never be such a thing as too much chocolate. Hell, there would never be such a thing as enough chocolate.

"Mint was good, coffee was good, strawberry was good," Killian continued hesitantly, watching Emma's reactions. She flipped out about ice cream; there was no way to tell what would set her off next. "But I think I'll go with the first one I tried."

When Emma's spoon stopped halfway to her mouth, Killian gathered that he'd screwed up again. Her voice rose an octave in disbelief. "Vanilla? Are you serious?" She watched as the server handed him the cup.

And so, there he was, the devilishly handsome pirate, clad in leather, feared by many for his ruthless conduct, viscous swordsmanship, and lethal hook that stood as a constant reminder of the trials of his past and the vengeance of which he was capable.

And he was eating plain, white, delicate vanilla.

Once she started to laugh, Hook's tension lessened a bit. "Now what?" he asked, fully prepared to defend his ice cream choice.

She shrugged. "It's just, you're the furthest thing from vanilla."

His eyebrows drew together. "I don't quite follow." He found confusion a regular state when he was with Emma. "Would it help if I got those crushed chocolate cookie things on top?"

Well, it was something. "Wanna try the chocolate syrup?"

"Not really." From his face, she could tell the idea was less than appealing.

Maybe it was impossible to be exciting all the time, even for a pirate.

* * *

**I know I still have one more prompt request, and I promise I will get to it, I just can't promise when. It's a poem, a beautiful one, and I want to do it justice!**


	15. Haunted

**So here was the prompt: Can you come up with a reason for why Emma looked so sick last episode? I don't know if you noticed but I did.**

**I did notice, my mom and I both thought she looked tired. I think part of it is the red eyeliner she's had on, but I also think there's something in thereto make it look like she's going dark. It focuses in on her face in the last scene of 4x18 and that's a fairly sinister look if you ask me...Also, for the season four "dark side" promo she has the same look. Anyway, this is what I came up with.**

**Side note for the reviewer who requested a response to the poem: It will be the next thing posted, I've been working on it and am somewhat pleased with how it's going. I just wanted to get this up while the episode was still pretty fresh in people's minds.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

15\. Haunted

_As she approached the little bundle of cloth in the woods, Emma saw that there was a sleeping baby, carefully wrapped in the soft blanket. It reminded her so much of herself that she had to hold back tears. Knowing that she had once been the same defenseless infant, in a similar wood, she looked around; maybe this child had an August. All things considered, she was still relatively new to magic, but she could sense the familiar tingling of magic around. Her eyes scanned gaps between the trees, but there was no one to be seen._

_She knelt down to pick up the baby - how could she leave it all alone? This could just as easily have been her._

_As her hands circled around the bundle, the infant stirred. A smile spread across Emma's face when the baby's tiny fists reached out and almost its whole face was taken over by an enormous yawn._

_And then it opened its eyes._

_Emma's smile faltered. The tingling feeling of magic grew stronger, like pin pricks on her skin now, painful and ominous._

_Its gaze found Emma's, and her green eyes met two dark, fiendish, consuming orbs of black._

* * *

Emma shot up in bed, the darkness from those eyes only just releasing her from their hold as she identified her surroundings in her room.

Three days ago, her parents had told her the truth. Three nights ago, the nightmares had begun.

She stared at the ceiling for some time, but gave up on going back to sleep. Physically, she was exhausted from the total of nine - ten, maybe - hours of sleep she had gotten over the course of the past three nights, but mentally she was restless.

She tossed her covers off and shuffled into the bathroom, squinting as she flipped on the lights. She splashed some warm water on her face as her eyes adjusted and focused on the sight in the mirror.

Eyes puffy, dark circles beneath them, lips slightly pursed, cheeks a bit drawn. Exhaustion evident.

This was the face of the savior, who had only just embraced her role as the intrinsically good, the inherently pure, the product of the true love of two heroes.

And all of it was a lie. She was not destined to be the savior by birth, nor was she the product of true love. All the light in her stemmed from the darkest of magic, from the most heinous act she could imagine, committed by the most self-righteous people she had ever met.

What they did would haunt her forever.

She turned away from the mirror, unsure anymore of what it was reflecting back at her.

* * *

**Thoughts? Leave a review!**


	16. Consequences

**This is the poem prompt I've mentioned in the last few posts (I promised I'd get it done!). The poem is titled Gary Gray, by Edgar Lee Masters.**

_I have studied many times_  
_The marble which was chiseled for me—_  
_A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor._  
_In truth it pictures not my destination_  
_But my life._  
_For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;_  
_Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;_  
_Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances._  
_Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life._  
_And now I know that we must lift the sail_  
_And catch the winds of destiny_  
_Wherever they drive the boat._  
_To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,_  
_But life without meaning is the torture_  
_Of restlessness and vague desire—_  
_It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid._

**First, I would like to say that poetry used to terrify me. And then I took AP Literature. And guess what? Poetry still terrifies me, but good lord it's a beautiful thing, and this is most definitely one of those examples of beauty. I absolutely adore the sea imagery of the ship and its sail, and one of my favorite literary devices is personification, with sorrow knocking and ambition calling.**

**But, on to meaning. The speaker was afraid to live his life, for fear of sorrow and failure. He realizes now (at the end of his life, or from the grave) there are two options: live an empty life, staying safe in the harbor but longing for more; or live a full life, letting destiny take the helm, and taking the good with the bad. A ship is safe in the harbor, but that's not what ships are for.**

* * *

16\. Consequences

"You chose her," Cora had told him once, almost too long ago to remember, "and the consequences of that decision."

His response had been defensive, he recalled, because, of course, he hadn't chosen her. That was preposterous. He'd chosen himself. It just so happened that choosing himself involved choosing her. If that was what it took for him to get to Storybrooke and handle his unfinished business with a certain slimy Crocodile, so be it.

It had been a retrospective existence, but he was content with his life on an indefinite pause as he worked out his revenge.

Then he had met her; blonde hair, green eyes, and a personality fiery enough and strong enough to rival that of any pirate. And in thinking about her, he had forgotten to think about revenge. He had begun to move from his little pool of memory, to ask for more from life than the guilt and anger and darkness that had plagued him. Revenge had been his remedy, his cure, his triumph.

But he no longer wanted any sort of triumph for his own sake.

He wanted it for the silly little town and its infuriating inhabitants, from the dwarves to the fairies, who would know what he had just done soon enough.

He wanted it for Mary Margaret, who was shaking her head in disbelief, her hand covering her mouth, and for David, who wrapped his arms around his wife in a futile attempt to provide some comfort.

He wanted it for Henry, who was staring at him, eyes wide, blinking, petrified.

Hell, he even wanted it for Regina, who was bent over him, hands surrounded by magic, trying to figure out something, anything, that she could do.

But mostly, he wanted it for the woman whom he had thrown himself in front of as the shot of red light flew toward her. She was kneeling next to him now, cradling his head, choking out words he could no longer clearly hear.

He wanted it for the sake of the life he had chosen, consequences be damned.

* * *

**Hook's life of meaninglessness was his life of revenge; he was stuck there, until he met Emma. And though she brought sorrow and failure and most definitely madness to his life, she also brought meaning. ****Did I do it justice? Hopefully - I've never responded to a poem like this before.**

**Also, after last night...can I get some opinions on the Sorcerer's Apprentice? I mean, he trapped the author who was abusing his privilege (good?), but he also did the curse for Snow and Charming but did he really have to? (bad?) and he's the one who spilled the beans to Lily (good/bad?) I'm really not sure what to think of him.**


	17. Bromance

**Juuuust another jaw-dropping, eye-popping episode. That author, man :/ But anyway, when Emma and Snow had that moment, Charming gave Killian the thankful glance. So let's get some fluffy happiness in there, because we all know the true OUAT romance is Captain Charming ;)**

* * *

17\. Bromance

It is common knowledge that going on a double date with your parents has potentially disastrous and awkward side effects.

Emma Swan - fairytale princess and savior of magic - was no exception.

When she and Killian went out with David and Mary Margaret, it quickly became Emma and Mary Margaret on a date with David and Killian.

Though she and Killian sat next to each other in the booth at Granny's, conversation tended to go across the table rather than from side to side. And after the two men started talking, they stopped only to swallow their food.

Emma and Mary Margaret watched, amused. "They're...twins," Emma noted.

Her mother only nodded, unable to think of anything else that would describe the two men better; they both snapped their fingers when they were trying to recall something, both pointed and made gestures with their hands. They had even ordered the same dinner.

Emma and her mother had a perfectly comfortable chat, but their attention kept drifting to the expressive discussion next to them.

"They're actually kind of entertaining," Mary Margaret commented as they waited for Ruby to return with the bill.

Emma smirked. "Dinner and a show."

Outside the diner a few minutes later, the men rejoined their respective dates as the two couples said good night.

"This was fun," Killian said, seeming slightly surprised; Emma recalled him being hesitant at the idea of going out with her parents.

"Yeah," David agreed, "we should do this again sometime."

Mary Margaret and Emma shared a smile that did not go unnoticed by the two men. "You know, if you two want to go on dates, you don't have to bring us girls along."

Foreheads creased, eyebrows furrowed, and two voices echoed, "Wait, what?"

"Oh, they're so cute when they're flustered like that," Mary Margaret cooed.

The two men shot each other identical confused glances as the women laughed to themselves. Emma wrapped her arm around Killian's. "Say goodnight to your boyfriend," she told him. "You two can play again tomorrow." She had a hard time keeping a straight face as her mother burst into a fit of giggles.

Killian and David adopted the same blank, unamused face. "I think they're mocking us," Killian stated dryly, but his lip was twitching upwards.

Emma held her index finger and thumb the tiniest bit apart. "Just a little." This was a double-dating side effect she could live with.

* * *

**Hopefully some light, fluffy cuteness that managed to elicit a laugh :)**


	18. Right

**Oh. My. Once. That episode...I can't even. I have ceased to be able to can. The next four months are going to be very, very long. Anyway, back to business: I did get a request for how Emma and Hook would meet each other in the alternate reality, and this is what I came up with. I had ideas brewing before the episode after seeing the promo - sorry I didn't get it up before, it was mother's day and my sister's birthday and then finals week and it unfortunately got pushed to the back burner :/ but I wanted to keep my ideas as they were rather than be swayed by something from the episode soooo that's what I'm doing, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

18\. Right

Scanning the docks, Henry finally found a familiar face, though that was the only thing familiar. The black leather was replaced by a different kind of uniform, the kind of the royal navy.

"Hook?" Henry asked tentatively as he walked the gangplank and approached the man, who was looking at a map, held to the table by his two hands. Henry then understood why he received no response. He tried again. "Killian?"

This time, the man looked up, but his eyebrows were drawn together, and the look became even more puzzled when he caught sight of Henry. "Tad bit informal for the Master of the Navy, don't you think, Lad?"

"Sorry," Henry replied. "It's just what I usually call you."

Killian didn't think anything could be more confusing than the way the boy addressed him or the way in which the boy was clothed, but apparently he was wrong. "Have we met before?"

"Well...sort of." Henry was hesitant at first, thinking of his words. But he also knew his time was short and he needed to rescue Emma, fast. "Okay, look, I'm from a different world, and there everyone calls you Captain Hook because you only have one hand and it's kind of a long story but I know you really well because you're dating my mom and the reason I'm here is because I need your help to rescue her, and we need to do it quickly."

Killian blinked at Henry a few times, mouth slightly parted. "Captain Hook?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Henry added, "but I have proof." He pulled Isaac's book from his inside coat pocket and handed it to Killian, who looked slightly baffled but mostly dubious. "Please, you have to believe me. Just open it and look!"

With a sigh, Killian complied, flipping through the pages without much consideration at first, but then with increasing astonishment and consternation. "How could - no one but the crew knows about my brother, or how we found out the King's Naval Master had sent us to Neverland." He looked up at Henry. "How could this book tell about where I'm supposed to be in a fortnight, how can anything tell the future?"

Henry took the book back. "It's all part of this alternate reality that this guy wrote to give villains a happy ending, and make heroes do terrible things. Please, the only way to make things right is to save my mom."

Killian stared at the book, forehead creased. "All right, Lad. You have my services. Where is she?"

"The Queen's dungeon."

He shook his head to himself; Master of the Navy, breaking into Snow White's dungeons. "It's a bit of a trek. I suppose that's enough time for this long story of mine?"

* * *

"How exactly do you know your way through here?" Killian asked, right hand holding the torch to light the dim caverns beneath Snow White's castle, his left hand resting on the hilt of the sword he had recently sheathed since knocking out the guard and taking the key.

"You told me about it because you've gotten in and out before."

"Right, in this real world of yours?" he asked as he double checked to make sure no one was following them.

Henry scratched the back of his neck. He decided not to go on about traveling realms and time. "Yeah. You actually did it to save my mom."

This made Killian smile. "From what you've said of your mother, she doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who frequently needs saving."

"Not really," Henry replied. "But when she does, it's usually me or you."

"And you said we were...dating?" His voice displayed his cluelessness

"Yeah, like courting. You'll get to meet her, obviously, so I guess we'll see if she remembers anything -"

A voice cut through the stone corridors. "Henry?"

"Mom!" Henry called back. He sped into a run, following the sound of her voice and leaving Killian behind him. A few seconds later, he entered a larger room, and in front of him, behind cast iron bars, was Emma. Henry pulled out the key, unlocked the door, and felt himself fill with relief as he hugged his mother.

"How did you find me?" she asked

"Isaac's book, and I had a little help." Henry saw Emma's eyes soften as she focused on something behind him, but Henry couldn't bring himself to tell her Killian didn't remember.

Emma hurried towards Killian, who made a small, surprised noise as she knocked the wind out of him. Her head pressed against his chest and her arms wrapped around him, leaving him slightly bewildered, not by her action, by the way it felt completely comfortable and just...right. He couldn't help it as his left arm moved to return the hug.

Suddenly, Emma flinched and pulled away. "Oh, my gosh."

Killian was startled by how empty he suddenly felt as she drew back. "Sorry," he immediately said, unsure what he was apologizing for. His cheeks flushed pink. He switched the torch to his left hand and extended to her his right. "Killian Jones, Royal Master of the Navy. Although I'm told you already know that." Realization dawned on her that he didn't know who she was, and pieces started to fit together in her mind. "What is it?" he asked, feeling an overwhelming need to know what was going on behind those green eyes.

"It's just..." She shook herself slightly and took the hand the was extended to her. "You...have two hands."

"Yes, I do. I've had two my whole life, and I'm quite fond of them both." He grinned at her, letting her know he was jesting, but all she saw was that handsome smirk and mischievous gleam in his eyes that made her heart race.

Killian wasn't sure how long she held his hand for, but eventually Henry cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but we still have a wedding to crash."

"Disrupt a wedding?" Killian asked, guilt already starting to fill him even though he hadn't even done anything.

And then Emma put a hand on his arm. "Please understand, it's the only way we can make things right."

This - her hand on his arm, her hand in his, her arms around him - this was what felt strangely and inexplicably right. "I understand, Love." This alternate version of himself may have a terrible past and one hand, but he also had this incredibly brave, strong woman, and that seemed more than fair.

* * *

**I totally forgot the fact that Rumple would want something bad for Hook (the goat's milk instead of rum was GENIUS) and focused more on the fact that giving Rumple a happy ending would also change Hook's past - there'd be no Milah, so wouldn't that mean he has two hands? Also, I thought, since he's a villain in the original, wouldn't that make him a hero in Isaac's story? Anywho, that's what was going through my mind, and for the dynamic of them meeting I wanted Emma to remember because I wanted that hug :D Let me know what you think!**


	19. Remember

**And now, the hiatus :'( As we all know, there was no new episode this week, and so to get my weekly fill, I re-watched last season's slightly less heartbreaking finale. And this popped into my head, a scene that didn't happen but I think could have/should have. Enjoy!**

* * *

19\. Remember

"Wait," David said, holding up his hand as he looked down at the newly added picture in the story book. "If you're Princess Leia, then that means that...Hook...?" He was comprehending, but at a snail's pace.

"Is Prince Charles, yes," Emma finished for him, a smile on her face and dancing in her eyes.

He stared at the page, seeing a beautiful, blonde woman in a bright red dress, dancing with a dark haired man in a tan coat. Even in the drawn image, it was easy recognize the two figures as Emma and Hook.

It was even easier to recognize the looks on their faces.

All at once, a conversation came rushing back to him. "Excuse me for a moment," he told the group, kissing his wife on the head before heading for the door.

Once outside, he was greeted by the cool evening air, and popped the collar of his jacket to fend off the chill reaching his neck. In front of him, seated at one of the tables near the gated entrance, was the man David was looking for.

"Thirty years is a pretty long time," David said, grabbing the chair next to the pirate and taking a seat. "But I'm not senile yet."

Hook raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

David's smile was small, but genuine. "You said, once upon a time, there was something you hoped I would remember. I do."

* * *

_Seated on a log in front of the fire, Killian found it so easy to speak personally to the prince a few feet away from him. Probably because that prince had no idea who Killian really was, or that his so called "princess" was actually the prince's daughter._

_"I'm not so sure her parents approve of me," he admitted._

_Charming didn't hesitate. "Given the lengths you've gone to to save her, they'd be crazy not to."_

_Killian had to smile at the sincerity behind the prince's remark. "I hope you remember that."_

* * *

Hook's brow cleared and he fidgeted in his seat, as if changing his position could make the situation more comfortable. It didn't. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, this is a bit awkward."

"I admit, things did change when I suddenly became the parent that didn't approve of you. She's my daughter, I'm going to be protective." He shrugged, seeming much more at ease than Hook was. "But I stand by what I said."

Hook's hand slid from his neck and his head snapped up, eyes meeting David's, looking for the slightest hint of distrust, but finding none. "You do?"

David chuckled. Hook hoped that was a good sign. "I didn't understand back then, but now I know what you meant when you said you'd go to the end of the world for her, or time." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, even though they were alone on the patio. "Look, I know about the Jolly Roger."

"How do you -"

David held up his hand, silencing his daughter's suitor. "I have my ways. Anyway, I know about that, and I know you followed her through a time portal to keep her safe." A heat rose to Hook's face, but David didn't stop. "I know you helped us in Neverland for her sake, saved my life for her sake, and you went to New York to bring her back here.

"If anyone had told me that I'd be having this conversation with you, I probably would have told them to go to Doctor Hopper for an evaluation." His small joke actually managed to get a laugh out of Hook, whose uneasiness was starting to fade. "Every battle, every tragedy, every disaster, you've been there to help. I never realized how much my family and I are indebted to you." He leaned back, tossed his hands up carelessly, and then folded them comfortably across his chest. "Like it or not, you're a hero."

Hook searched the man's face, taking in the smile on his lips and in his eyes, and saw something that hadn't been directed his way in quite some time, something he'd told himself he hadn't needed and had only recently started dreaming of again: Approval. It created an unexpected warmth in his chest, but there was still a void that wasn't filled.

"I'd appreciate it if you could share your opinion with your daughter," Hook said quietly.

"I don't have to," David replied, but the man in front of him didn't look convinced. "She might surprise you."

Hook laughed quietly to himself. "She never ceases to surprise me."

"Would it help you to know that you have fate on your side?" David asked. At Hook's questioning expression, he continued, "I assume you remember the ring that caused so many problems?" Hook snorted a bit; he wouldn't be able to forget that damn ring. Ever. "The ring follows true love wherever it goes. And if memory serves me, it spent quite a bit of time in Emma's possession when she was with you."

Hook stared at him, showing on his face the pain that hope could cause when it had so often and for so long been met with disappointment. "Don't get my hopes up like that, Mate."

Seeing the man's expression, David didn't want to push it. He only said, "Just do me a favor?"

"Aye?"

"Just remember it."

* * *

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Thoughts? Prompts you'd like to see? General needs to rant about OUAT? Direct them to the box below :)**


	20. Bastard

**Another week without an episode (actually 2 weeks, sorry). So here's another little bit I came up with, again prompted by the season 3 finale, imagining what was going through Killian's head aboard the Rolly Joger ;) I love how much Killian has changed, and that's what inspired this. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

20\. Bastard

"Now where might you be going?" The words were unsteady and slightly slurred, but the voice was one Killian knew all to well. "I do hope you're not having second thoughts."

"No," Emma replied quickly. "Just got tired of waiting."

Then she tugged the lapel of his coat, roughly pulling him towards her, and smashed her lips against his. And she didn't stop kissing him. They swayed, lips apparently glued together, as Emma attempted to move him away from the ladder, giving Killian an opportunity to escape unnoticed. He paused in his discreet exit, and Emma caught his gaze, silently begging him to just GO.

But he couldn't. He knew it wasn't real, knew it was just a distraction, but that did absolutely nothing to calm the anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. The heat of it rose up his neck and settled on his face in an expression of absolute contempt.

That bastard.

Somewhere in the back of Killian's mind came a voice that reminded him, That's you.

But it wasn't.

That was his old self - the vulgar, inconsiderate, sweet-talking charmer. He remembered the lies he had told and the excuses he had made, the anger at the world and the complete and utter lack of caring about the people in it. He and the man before him were two completely different people.

The man did not deserve his crew.

The man did not deserve his ship.

And, the man most certainly did not deserve his girl or, chronologically speaking, his first kiss with her.

He assumed the fact that he still wasn't gone was making Emma panic, but he couldn't be certain; his vision seemed to be tinted red, and though he heard the anxiety in her laugh, the man's words were louder. "My apologies," he slurred. "A woman as beautiful as you deserves my full and prompt attention."

How many times had he used that line? He wouldn't have been able to count, seeing as he had been too drunk to remember half of those occurrences. He just knew the general procession of events: Emma would cease to be Emma. He might be able to recall her hair color, but no more than that. She would become just another nameless, faceless, meaningless conquest.

And right now, he was going in for a second kiss.

A line had to be drawn somewhere.

Killian put his hook on the man's shoulder.

This was just as much for Emma as it was for himself.

The man turned, eyes widening in recognition and confusion.

Killian slammed his fist into the man's jaw, and watched with pleasure as he collapsed.

_Damn, that felt good._

"Are you kidding me?" Emma exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. "How is that not going to have consequences?"

Oh, sure. The guy on the floor gets kissed, and he gets yelled at. "He was asking for it," Killian explained. "Like I said, he'll blame the rum. Now let's get out of here."

Satisfaction dulled the pain in the knuckles of his right hand, but didn't stop him from wanting to throw another punch. Having had his fair share of them, Killian had never wished a hangover on anyone. But as he took one last look at his former bastard self on the floor, he had never wished for anything more fervently.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! As always, I take requests if there's anything you'd like to see during this hiatus!**


	21. Jello

**That awkward moment when you suddenly realize it's almost been three weeks since you last posted something...oops! Anyway, this was a fun one to write, so I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

21\. Jello

Storybrooke had a lot of cleaning up to do after the snowstorm that had blown through. No matter where they went, the town's inhabitants found themselves calf-deep in mounds of snow. While it was great for the kids, who had been waiting all winter for a storm strong enough to cancel school and promise a day full of sledding, skating, snowball fights, and hot cocoa, the adults were having a tough time. The snow was heavy and wet rather than powdery, which meant it was just as perfect for building snowmen as it was for weighing down electrical wires.

The storm had ended sometime during the very early hours of the morning, and before noon, David had called to ask if Killian could help him, the dwarves, Robin, and the Merry Men with the telephone poles that had fallen, which were keeping the power from being restored.

"Be there shortly, Mate," Killian had replied. He was now tugging on a pair of snow boots and throwing on a down vest.

"How many poles are down?" Emma asked. She was dressed in sweat pants and the warmest sweatshirt she owned; no power meant no heat.

A smile danced on Killian's lips as he took in the sight; even in lazy clothes, she was still beautiful. He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to make a little friction and heat. "He said three, so we should be able to get them all done. Not sure when we'll be done though."

She wrapped her arms around him, basking in the familiar feeling, the familiar scent, which somehow always smelled like the ocean, and the warmth he offered. "Assuming you guys get the power up again -"

"Is that doubt I hear?"

Emma stared at him blankly and continued, "Would you like me to have something warm waiting for you?"

His grin turned seductive, sending her heart racing and blood pumping, heating her face. "I can think of something." His voice was low, sultry. He nodded to the bedroom and gave her a wink.

She smacked his arm lightly. This man... "You know what I meant."

"Yes, yes, I know, Love," he admitted, his smile playful again. "And that would be perfect."

* * *

Five hours later, a series of beeps alerted her that the power had returned, and she rose to go reset the clocks and make sure everything was working properly. At the stove, she paused. She wished she had asked Killian what he would want when he got home.

He'd been working all day, so hungry would be an understatement. She had been thinking about making soup, but that would take a while. Pasta or omelets would probably be better options.

She decided to call him to see what he felt like just as her phone started to buzz, and she smiled to herself, thinking of the coincidence it would be if it was him. But the caller ID revealed it wasn't.

"Hey," she answered, "Nice job getting the power back on."

David sighed audibly before he said anything. Then, "Please don't freak out."

"That is a very bad way to start a conversation," she said warily. "What's wrong?"

"Well, we're at the hospital." She heard him sigh again, and in her mind's eye she saw him pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's Killian, he-"

"Tell me when I get there." She kept her voice gruff, but underneath the rough facade was a pounding heart and a racing mind, each attempting to overtake the other as she threw on a coat, scarf, and snow boots, and ran out the door.

They had been dealing with electricity, which was potentially hazardous. But at least one of the dwarves - she couldn't think of which one - was an electrician, she was sure of it, so Killian probably wouldn't handle any wires, and she'd heard David's voice far more urgent in other situations.

Her thoughts continued to chase each other in circles until she found David in the hospital lobby, obviously waiting for her. He looked upset, but not terrified. "What happened? Where is he? Is he okay?"

David put his hands on her shoulders, trying to give his daughter some comfort to calm her and slow her flurry of questions. "It's okay, everything is fine. Killian is fine."

She blinked at him a few times, eyes wide. "Why the hell didn't you mention that on the phone?"

"You hung up before I could," David explained calmly. He saw how Emma was peering over his shoulder, obviously looking for a certain someone. "He's in one of the rooms, sleeping right now. I'll take you to him."

Her panic seemed to lessen, but not by much as David led the way down a few hallways and up the stairwell, relaying to Emma the story of a ladder unknowingly perched on a patch of ice and an awkward fall onto the hard, packed snow mounds below. "He tried to land on his feet but slipped and banged up his ankle, and he hit his head kind of hard, but Whale did some tests and didn't think it was a concussion."

If her father said anything after that, she didn't hear; they arrived at the room and Emma didn't hesitate before entering.

Killian lay on his back, his chest rising and falling, slow and even. His ankle was wrapped and elevated on a pillow. He had a bruise, a mix of purple and red, across the right side of his face, near his eye. And, on the stand to the left of his bed, was a plate of blue jello. She had to smile at that as she grabbed one of the chairs against the wall and pulled it closer to the bed. She picked a random magazine from the basket by the door, sat down, and waited.

"Hey, Beautiful," she heard a while later. She lowered the magazine to see crystal blue eyes and a lazy smile.

"Hey," she replied, leaning in closer. "How do you feel?"

He paused, appearing to consider it. "I think I've been better," he admitted, "but this certainly beats getting hit by a car."

"You know," she said, personally feeling much better now that he was awake and joking, "if you didn't want to eat my cooking, you could have just said something." She gestured to his ankle. "This is a little drastic, don't you think?"

"What if I told you I decided to take a try at flight?"

"I'd say you forgot the pixie dust."

"Damn," he sighed, sinking deeper into the pillows. "I knew there was something."

Emma rolled her eyes, smiling. "Well, now you're stuck with your wobbly blue dinner." His eyes flashed to the plate to his left, his face expressing his distaste. "Things could be worse, though," she continued. "We could have you handcuffed to the rail again."

He seemed to ponder this thought. "Actually, waking up, handcuffed to a bed, you nearby..." he trailed off, eyebrows raised provocatively.

Emma rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the laughter in them. "Just eat your jello."

* * *

**Some cutesy fun stuff - and of course I had to do one with jello! As always, reviews and requests are welcome! Thanks for reading**


	22. Rescue (Part I)

**Lieutenant Duckling! I've never done one of these before, so here goes! Also, can you call it a one-shot if it has two parts? Not sure, but that's what I did anyway :)**

* * *

22\. Rescue (Part 1 - Emma)

Her hands were tied behind her back. Her mother's hands were tied behind her back. Her father's hands were tied behind his back.

All in all, the day's events had yet to please Prince Emma.

Relations between their kingdom in the Enchanted Forest and the kingdom of Catania across the sea had always been tense as far as her father could remember. No one had any illusions that it had much to do with his father's greed, but they also knew that King Edward's own lust for power was partially at fault. It resulted in a year-long war between the two kingdoms twenty years ago, just before Emma was born. A successful mediation ended the war, although tensions remained high ever since due to the long, bitter history.

Three months ago, King Edward passed, forcing his son, King Alaric, to take the throne at the age of nineteen. David and Snow had looked, as they always did, for the best in the new king, and sent their condolences and congratulations. What they were most surprised to receive in return was not only a grateful reply, but a gracious invitation to be guests at the Catanian palace and work towards healing old wounds.

With such an offer, hope in their hearts, and peace on their minds, Snow and David could not say no, nor could they refuse the ship that King Alaric had sent for them. Refusing the ship would be an offense.

Of course, sending a fake Catanian ship captained by pirates was also an offense. For a moment, Emma wished her family had been less diplomatic. What a tragedy it would be if the royal family was lost at sea en route to strengthen relations with Catania.

"No hard feelings, of course," the captain of the vessel, who had introduced himself as none other than Blackbeard, said with a shrug. His hand remained tight around Emma's arm. "King Alaric pays well. Very well. You three are worth quite a pretty penny. And require the most detailed assassination instructions too," he added, appearing to think about it now. After a moment. though, he shrugged again, as if this was only just slightly out of his day-to-day routine. "Can't do anything in the harbor yet. Take them to the hold," he ordered, passing Emma off to what she assumed was his second mate, an aging man with tattoos and scars marking every inch of visible skin.

His hold on her arm was just as tight as he shoved her below deck and into a cell, closing the metal door in her face. Across the hold, her parents were also roughly forced into two cells. "We'll come back for you, don't you worry," the second mate sneered, a disgusting smile spreading across his face.

Though Emma's heart pounded in her chest, she kept herself steady and held his gaze, trying to come off as unintimidated. The pirate turned away and returned to the deck, leaving her unsure of whether or not she succeeded. But she didn't care much about that now; she had other things to focus on.

"Well, this was fun," Snow said.

David scoffed. "We should have seen this coming."

"Charming." Snow's voice took on a gentle tone. "We knew it was a possibility, but we couldn't refuse without an international incident."

"What a pity that would have been." He shook his head to himself, disappointment and worry clouding his brow.

His wife's voice lost the gentleness in her next few sentences. "Oh, no, you are not sulking. We are in this mess together, we've been in worse before, and we will get out of it."

He sighed. "I know, you're right. What are you thinking? We're stuck in these cells until we're far enough out on the ocean for them to dump us over the side and make a story of it, so we have some time." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I swear, I can hear rats scurrying around down here."

"Uh..." Snow sounded genuinely confused, causing David to open his eyes and subsequently let his mouth fall into an 'o' shape.

"Yeah, sorry," Emma said, "not rats, just me." She had her eyes closed as she continued twisting her wrists and attempting to wear away the rope. Her hands glowed white, but the light was unsteady. "You know, your magical daughter. You two seem to have forgotten that."

Her parents' mouths remained parted. "But Emma, you've barely started your lessons with Blue."

"But you've always told me that I've had this in me my whole life, I can do a few things." The light from her hands was now only flickering occasionally, and Emma's eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. "Or I can try at least," she grumbled. Another few moments passed, and she let out a frustrated sigh. She only succeeded in rubbing her wrists red and raw.

"Take a break for a moment," David said gently, watching his daughter and feeling his heart swell with pride. "What have you and Blue been working on?"

"Focusing," Emma replied, closing her eyes and breathing slowly, blocking out everything else. Yes, she had known about her powers since they had revealed themselves after she had turned sixteen, but other teenagers she knew did not have magic; it made her different, strange, and on occasion, dangerous. It made her scared or herself, which made her powers volatile. It was only very recently that she had begun to embrace her magic.

But today she had to. She could. In her mind's eye, she pictured her hands glowing white, and the light remaining steady and warm. Her palms began to tingle, and though there was some moisture on her brow, she allowed herself a small smile. She imagined the light wearing away at the ropes, one fiber at a time. It was slow work, but she recalled her lessons with Blue and reminded herself to be patient. She wasn't sure how long it was before she first felt the ropes give a little, but it wasn't too long after that she gave a tug and the ropes broke.

Her eyes popped open and she brought her newly freed hands in front of her face. "I got it!" she announced, as if her parents hadn't been paying attention. "How long was that?"

"A few minutes? Maybe three?" Snow guessed.

Emma allowed herself a moment to be mildly impressed. "All right, let's get you guys out now." She shook and rotated her wrists, allowing the blood to return to her hands, and went to the lock on the cell door. Within the minute, there was a click and the door swung open.

Her father spoke rather nonchalantly. "Just out of curiosity, is there any particular reason why magical lock-picking seems to come very easily to you?"

"Nope," was the quick answer he got. Emma knew he was wondering how many locks on doors and drawers in the castle had become meaningless barriers, but the look in his eyes told her that he truly couldn't bring himself to be even the slightest bit disappointed as Emma moved to unlock his and Snow's cells.

But she never got the chance. The door to the hold flew open, and all three of them tensed and turned towards the newcomer. On high alert and facing a potential threat, Emma's hands suddenly began to glow, brighter and more steadily than ever.

But the light quickly dissipated. In front of them was no pirate; the man that had hurried into the hold was not much older than she was, and wore the uniform of the Royal Navy.

"Your Highness!" he said as soon as he saw Emma, causing his bright blue eyes to cloud with confusion. He looked at the keys he held in his hand. "You're...already free."

"Sorry to deprive you of a dashing rescue." She wasn't sure what possessed her to say it, but the words were out before she had even thought about them. She smiled at him, and a few moments later watched his own mouth quirk upwards in a crooked grin.

"I'll take a dashing rescue," a voice said, and the two were reminded that the King and Queen were still bound and locked in the cells. This jolted them both into action, but even the tasks could not keep either from sparing an occasional glance at the other. She had no doubt that her parents noticed, but truth be told, she found herself not really caring all that much as she felt the unexpected warmth when his gaze met hers.

* * *

**Part 2 will be up shortly! Thanks for reading**


	23. Rescue (Part II)

**Part II, as promised! Enjoy!**

* * *

23\. Rescue (Part II - Killian)

Killian blinked and squinted, furrowing his brow in concentration. The midday sun was bright, more than bright enough for him to question whether or not he was looking at what he thought he was looking at.

But not bright enough to dissuade him completely. He pulled his telescope from his belt and held it to his eye.

The sails on the ship appeared to be Catanian, and at the mast flew the kingdom's pale yellow flag with the red and orange lion insignia. But there, the ship's Catanian likeness ended.

With the telescope, he could finally see what he thought had been there: Oak. Catanian ships were made of pine, the most abundant tree found in the Catanian climate, where oak could barely survive. Yet this wood was most definitely oak, not pine. He lowered his telescope, feeling his heart rate quicken, because something was definitely wrong.

He needed a closer look.

"Killian!" a familiar voice called as Killian headed for the gang plank. He turned to see Liam approaching. "Going for a walk?" As soon as Liam saw his brother's face, is smile fell, and he didn't wait for an answer to his first question before immediately asking, "Something wrong?"

Killian pointed to the ship in the harbor. Liam followed his brother's finger, squinting in the sun light as Killian had earlier. "Catanian ship? What about it?"

"I'm not sure it's Catanian," Killian replied, handing his telescope over for Liam to use. "Look at the wood."

Consternation settled on Liam's brow. "It's oak," he stated, confused. "And does something about that ship just seem...familiar? I can't place it but I just feel like -"

"Like you've seen it before?" Killian supplied. Liam nodded. "Me too. That's where I'm headed." Liam nodded again and accompanied his brother off their ship and around the docks. The walked briskly, but even up close had a difficult time placing the ship from their memories. Killian could feel it right on the edge of his awareness, something from long ago, something more than just a ship they had passed on the sea or had been docked beside in a harbor.

"The figurehead," he muttered, an idea suddenly coming to him. Was he being too suspicious in noticing the ship had weighed anchor at the dock furthest from the harbor? Or that it had been maneuvered so the aft rather than the stern was all anyone could see?

Perhaps.

He took off at a run to the very edge of the dock, stretching himself as far as he could to see the front of the ship. He only caught a side view, but what he saw was not a mane. The wooden carving of a lion, to match the kingdom's insignia, was the figurehead of all Catanian vessels. This ship boasted a different figurehead, one that he had heard about countless times, and could now remember having seen once before, ten years ago, the day after his tenth birthday. His heart dropped into his stomach and he forced his stubborn legs to move as he sprinted back to his brother.

"It's a griffin!" he exclaimed, grabbing his Liam's arm and forcing him into a run.

Despite the running, all the color drained from Liam's face. "Blackbeard?" The dazed note to his voice told Killian that he was remembering that night all too well. The night a wooden griffin had seemed like a monster in the light of the lightning flashes. Liam would have been sixteen during that attack, but it still left scars. "We need to find out why that ship is here," he said, a plan of action making him focus better. They angled their run towards towards the harbormaster, practically skidding to a halt when they reached him.

The harbormaster raised an eyebrow at their entrance but continued with his usual duty. "Good morning, Captain Jones, how-"

"What is that ship's business in the harbor?" Liam asked, hurried and breathless, pointing at it.

The harbormaster hesitated for a moment of confusion, but quickly opened his ledger and scanned it for the Catanian vessel. "It is here to take King David, Queen Snow, and Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest to Catania on a diplomatic visit. Why do..." He trailed off as he watched the two men's faces go ash white.

"What would Blackbeard want with the royal family?" Killian muttered into his brother's ear.

"Diplomatic visit?" Liam repeated.

The harbormaster nodded. "Ties between the Enchanted Forest and Catania are not what one would call friendly. Apparently, since he ascended the throne, King Alaric has made attempts to build more peaceful relations. He sent a ship for them."

"He was hired," Killian concluded

"That is not a ship from Catania," Liam explained, his voice and features hardening. "That's Blackbeard." The harbormaster's jaw went slack. "I need you to focus," Liam continued, "and call the Royal Guard immediately." Though his mouth was still slightly open, the harbormaster did his bidding with haste.

"We have no time to waste waiting for the Royal Guard," Killian said.

"No," Liam replied, a slow grin stretching across his face for the first time since Killian had pointed out the ship. "We don't. But we do have swords. And a crew."

* * *

Killian was pleased to find that charging onto a docked vessel was certainly easier than trying to board one moving on the sea. Despite being on ships his whole life, his initial footing was somewhat surer than it would have been had he swung overboard on ropes. The element of surprise was also a certain help; surprise attacks are difficult out on the open water, but very few crews are prepared for a fight in a harbor.

They were pirates, fast and ruthless, but the unexpected visit from a naval crew had the upper hand. By the time of the royal guards arrival - which, Killian had to admit, was rather quick - Blackbeard's crew had been dispatched.

Killian surveyed the scene: Blackbeard's crew, disarmed and hands bound, surrounded by royal guards; Blackbeard himself, practically seething and securely shackled, standing in front of Liam and the captain of the Royal Guard; his own fellow crew members, a few with injuries being tended to but all present and accounted for.

He realized quickly who was missing, and scanned the deck for the hold, hurling himself for the door, throwing it open as he grabbed the key ring off the hook beside it.

"Your highness!" he said automatically as soon as he set eyes on the princess. But aside from seeing the royal family members, the image before him did not match the one he expected to find. "You're...already free," he noted.

The princess - Emma, he recalled - grinned. "Sorry to deprive you of a dashing rescue." He found himself blinking at her as he processed the words, which were somehow familiar in a way he couldn't describe. Without even realizing it was happening, he felt the corner of his mouth pull up in a smile of his own.

"I'll take a dashing rescue," King David said, reminding them that he and his wife were still there. Killian jumped back into action, quickly unlocking the two cells, and helped untie the King and Queen's hands. "What's going on above deck?"

"My captain and the rest of the crew have Blackbeard's crew in custody," the young man explained. "We also called the Royal Guard, who arrived not long ago." He lead the way up the steps and onto the deck, where they saw it was just as he said it was. As soon as they emerged, another man hurried towards them and was in mid-bow when King David stopped him.

"Please, I think we should be bowing to you," he said. "To whom do we owe our lives?"

"Captain Liam Jones," Liam introduced himself, bowing anyway. "But if I may, it was my lieutenant here that is truly responsible for your rescue." His eyes moved to his brother, and Killian saw in them pride. "Lieutenant Killian Jones." Feeling all eyes of the Royal Family on him, especially Princess Emma's, Killian felt warmth on his face.

"I insist that you and your crew come to the palace," Queen Snow said, addressing both brothers. "We shall hold a feast in your honor."

King David nodded in agreement. "I think that serving you dinner is the least we can do after you saved our lives."

"It would be our pleasure," Killian replied, unsure exactly how one could refuse such an offer.

His brother's pride, and the King and Queen's gratitude; the feeling of Princess Emma's hazel eyes meeting his, and the knowledge that he would get to see her again.

All in all, the day's events ended up rather pleasing to Killian.

* * *

**I'm thinking about another continuation of this, about what would happen at the banquet in their honor...thoughts on if that's a good idea? Thanks for reading!**


	24. Questions

**Wow, thank you so much for the reviews!**** I'm so glad you all liked the last two, and thought they were good enough to support a part three! I think I mentioned before that this AU stuff is new to me but it's actually kind of fun!**

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24\. Questions

Killian usually only saw this many people when he was around the docks. But this was most certainly not the docks. Primarily, he noticed, because the docks reeked overwhelmingly of fish.

The banquet hall did not; it smelled of roasted turkey and smoked ham and freshly baked bread and melting butter and an array of herbs and spices on vegetables he had never even seen before.

He consumed with his eyes, feeling stuffed just by looking at all the food available to him for this evening, and only caught the end of King David's speech, describing the events of that day at the harbor and thanking the crew.

Killian raised his wine goblet to salute his fellow crew mates and realized it was a nice change from the ale tankards he was used to. He also realized that all eyes were on him and his brother, Liam, as they were Captain and Lieutenant of the daring crew.

And because they were sitting at the head of the table.

Next to the royal family.

So in reality for the two brothers, the eyes glanced, identified, acknowledged, and moved on.

"It's a pleasant change from the stench of fish," Liam noted. Killian's mouth quirked up a bit, not surprised he and his brother had been thinking the same thing.

"Is this a potato?" Killian held up his fork, right in his brother's face, forcing the captain to go slightly cross-eyed focusing on the utensil. "Because it tastes like a potato and looks like a potato but it's purple. I mean, it's gotta be imported from somewhere..."

Liam tilted his head. "I'm inclined to believe that, yes, it is a potato. But," he leaned in closer to his brother. "What's even more interesting than the potatoes is the Princess. She's been looking over here quite a lot."

Killian rolled his eyes at his brother's wiggling eyebrows, but couldn't hide the faint blush on his face. "I noticed. You think she'd say yes if I asked her to dance?"

"You saved her life," Liam shrugged, "I'd say she at least owes you one."

Killian thought this was a decent enough reason. It didn't stop him from draining his wine goblet before getting up from his seat.

* * *

Of all the things Emma could hope for but had not expected for the night, the chef preparing her favorite chocolate mousse for dessert was most definitely one of those things.

The other was the young lieutenant coming over and extending to her his hand.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, crystal blue eyes searching hers for an answer.

She tried not to appear too eager as she rose and placed her hand in his, feeling the callouses from working on a ship even on the tips of his fingers. "It would be my pleasure." They made their way to the dance floor, where others were gathering as the members of the orchestra settled into their seats. After a few moments of silence, the music began, and with it the dance. And with the dance, Emma's surprise. It was natural, she supposed, for a skilled swordsman and sailor to be light of foot, but a dancer?

"Now," Emma said a little ways into the dance, "since you asked me a question, I get to ask you a question."

Killian knit his eyebrows together. "I asked you a question?"

She grinned. "You asked me to dance."

"That shouldn't count, it -"

"Was a question," she interrupted, her eyes glittering with laughter. "Technically."

Killian sighed and spun her before smoothly pulling her back towards him, perfectly in time with the music. "It's rather difficult to win an argument with you, isn't it?"

She nodded. "I've been told it's impossible. Also, that was a question. But I'll let it slide."

"Point taken," Killian conceded with a grin. "Please, continue."

"Where did you learn to dance so well?"

He laughed aloud. "I know, it's surprising. My mother loved to dance, and she taught both my brother and myself. I suppose she was right all along." He looked at the banquet hall around him before returning his gaze back to her. "I would be able to put it to good use one day." As it was giving him an opportunity to spend time with the Princess, it was being put to very good use. "And now," he continued, "would it be my turn to ask again?"

"I believe it would be," she replied, momentarily catching the sly glances from her parents from across the room.

"How was it to grow up in a castle?"

Curiosity about the lieutenant overwhelmed her. She'd been asked the question before, but never like this. It always came up when she entertained the children of visiting nobles, who wanted to be able to imagine what it was like to have anything she wanted at the snap of her fingers. She usually gave them the answer they wanted to hear. But the man in front of her was different, no envy or greed on any part of his face. He looked like he'd be more interested in being told about secret passageways.

"It was a whirlwind," she said, feeling that she could answer him truthfully. "Lots and lots of lessons in etiquette, which drove me absolutely mad, of course. And sometimes it felt like I was trapped in here." Her answer happened to coincide with the end of a song, and suddenly her eyes grew wide, causing Killian some minor confusion. "Please don't think I'm complaining about it," she hurriedly continued, "I don't want you to think that I'm spoiled."

"I don't," he replied simply as another song started. "Far from it, Your Highness." Frankly, she struck him as one of the most reasonable and grounded people he had met. He motioned for her to continue her answer.

"I get to visit the villages, and I get to meet people who treat me like I'm normal rather than royal. And I can go on walks or rides through the Enchanted Forest..." She trailed off, thinking, the slightest of frowns on her lips. "But there's always someone. A nursemaid, a tutor, a guard, my parents. I understand the reasons why I need them near me, but the constancy is sometimes a little overwhelming. And for all my opportunities, I don't think I've done much. The trip to Catania was supposed to be my first time overseas."

"I'm sorry you lost that chance," he said, voice quiet. It could have been his imagination, but he thought there there was something different about her now, something that clicked in his brain. Maybe the title of _Princess_ had been blocking out the other title she had: _person_.

She shrugged, only a little rueful. "I'll have other chances. And what about you? What is it like, being on a ship, always on the water? Always a new destination?"

It was the first time anyone had ever asked him something like that. His feet kept moving with the music, but his mind swirled trying to think what it was like. "It's...freeing." She watched as his eyes lost focus. "The wind and the water and the openness. I've gotten to go all over, but I suppose it can be lonely too. We're at sea for weeks sometimes." He lowered his voice and leaned towards her. "And don't tell this to the rest of the crew, but to be perfectly honest, when you're with the same group of people for three weeks with dwindling rations, sometimes you just want to bang your head against the mast. Repeatedly."

He liked that his comment caused her to throw her head back and laugh, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught Liam wiggling his eyebrows again.

Her voice returned his attention to her, and he realized it was because he could hear her clearly now that there was no music. "How did you know that it wasn't a Catanian ship?"

"That's two questions in a row, Your Highness," he pointed out, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Technically."

She frowned, but in good humor. "All right, all right, your turn."

He thought for a moment, but began to panic slightly as couples started to leave the dance floor as the night was drawing to a close. Which meant his time with her was ending as well. "How did you free yourself when you were in the hold?"

The question was one thing she _had_ expected but had hoped would _not_ come up, but she was saved from answering when she saw her father approaching, probably to pull her away for farewells. "I believe that may be a question for another time," she said, watching as the orchestra members rose from their seats. She curtsied, and he automatically bowed in response.

"Will there be another time?" he asked before he could stop himself.

From the hope in his eyes to the bashful grin on his lips, his face was a reflection of her own emotions. "I sincerely hope so, Lieutenant Jones."

* * *

**Thoughts? I have a few more ideas with the alternate universe Lieutenant Duckling thing going on here, but we'll see! And of course, please comment if you have any suggestions for things you want to see! I'm open to ideas. Thanks for reading!**


	25. Light

**So here's an old one that I kind of forgot about. With all this new Dark Swan info, I found it kind of ironically fitting and decided to post it. Enjoy!**

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25\. Light

_"Not a day will go by that I don't think of you."_

_"Good."_

That had meant that she would think of him too. He wished he still thought that, wished that he had never heard Regina say that Emma would have no memory of them.

No memory of him. Of anger and doubt, of understanding and trust, of quiet companionship and heated arguments. Of bean stalks and handcuffs and jello and a kiss that still made his head spin.

He didn't exist to her.

All that time spent repenting, redeeming, redefining himself as someone worth her while, was gone. Wasted. And he had absolutely nothing to show for it. Nothing but memories of them that only he could remember.

Memories that did nothing but leave an ache in his chest.

How utterly stupid had he been, how ridiculously naive to raise his hopes. Now he understood. A happy ending was far beyond his grasp; reaching for Emma Swan was like trying to catch light in his hands.

Beautiful, hopeful, impossible.

* * *

**Also, for the request for a conversation between young Emma and Hook, it's getting the final touches! It'll be the next one posted - and it will be posted soon, because I know this is a short one.**

**Poll the Audience: WHO'S EXCITED FOR CAMELOT!? Not gonna lie, I'm crazy excited! Also a little nervous, because I've been reading Arthurian legends for years and I don't know what Adam and Eddie are going to do to the image in my mind, but they haven't really let me done thus far, and they get bonus points for the improved Captain Hook :D**


	26. Orphan

**This is a response to the request I got for Killian to have a conversation with young Emma, hopefully I did it justice! The conversation just kind of steered itself. The hardest part was 1. figuring out the situation, before or after Killian has met Emma? and 2. How on earth am I going to get Killian to time travel and/or realm hop? So, of course, this is completely made up, set during the time when Rumple had Killian's heart.**

* * *

26\. Orphan

It's a bad time when the Dark One has your heart. It usually means you end up doing things you don't really want to.

Like time traveling.

After that one time going through Zelena's portal, Killian had sworn off time travel, and, unless it was absolutely necessary, realm hopping.

So what was he doing? Time traveling.

"Your task, Pirate," Gold had sneered, "is simple. Get on the bus. Find the Apprentice. Watch what he does and where he goes. Understand?"

With gritted teeth, Killian had nodded, knowing that even if he didn't understand, it wouldn't matter; he was not in full control of his actions.

Which was how, an hour later, he ended up about twenty years in the past, across the street from a bus stop in the great state of wherever the hell he was. He didn't get the luxury of specifics. All he knew was that if he followed the girl with dark hair, he'd be on the right bus.

And there she was, sitting with a blonde.

A blonde he would recognize anywhere, no matter the realm or time.

And his suspicions were confirmed when he heard her name: _Emma_.

No wonder Gold had left out specifics.

He watched as the blonde stormed off down the sidewalk before turning a corner, leaving the brunette on her own at the stop.

Just a few words, Killian thought to himself, she'd barely remember it. There was an uncomfortable tug in his chest that he knew was from Gold in control of his heart, but he was still able to go after Emma, so he at least had some time left. Walking at a brisk pace, it was only a few seconds before he rounded the corner and found her. She was a good distance away, but even then he was able to tell what she was doing: picking the lock on that door.

And he had to hand it to her, after she saw him, she seemed very relaxed as she turned from the door and leaned against the wall of the building, as if she hadn't been doing anything. She looked down, arms crossed, appearing not to pay him any attention.

"Hi," he said.

Her head immediately snapped up, eyes wide and wary.

He felt the need to smack himself in the head. No matter how friendly he made his voice, a guy dressed in black on the side of the road was creepy. _Nicely done, Killian_. Seeing as the other first time he met Emma Swan had been when she'd found him cowering under a pile of bodies and subsequently tied him to a tree, he was zero for two on good first impressions.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he recovered quickly. "Do you happen to have the time?"

"Quarter to ten," she replied, though since she hadn't looked anywhere, he wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or had simply spouted an answer to make him go away.

"Right, thanks...Any idea when the next bus comes?"

This time, she turned to him slowly, eyebrows slightly raised, and utterly unimpressed. "Bus stop is around the corner. You aren't from around here." There was no question in her voice.

"That obvious?"

She snickered a bit. "You don't have the right accent for Minnesota."

"I do have the lock picking skills, though."

Suspicion clouded her features, but even after concluding he wasn't a cop she didn't lose an ounce of that famous Swan attitude he knew too well. "Gonna scold me for trying to break in?"

This time he was the one to laugh. "Hardly, Lass. Me reprimanding you for lock picking would be of the highest forms of hypocrisy."

"So you can pick locks?" She said the words, testing them out. With one eyebrow raised, she sized him up again, then shrugged, seeming to buy it.

"Please," he said. "I've been picking locks for longer than you've been alive." About three hundred years longer, but that was beside the point. "You develop a special range of skills as an orphan." Or pirate, but, again, beside the point.

He winced, the tug in his chest from his orders suddenly starting to become painful.

Emma didn't seem to notice; her head was turned towards him, but her eyes were not focused on anything near her. "You're an orphan too." Her voice had gone quiet. "It just..never hit me before. No matter how old you are, you'll always be an orphan."

Seeing the dejection on her face, hearing it in her voice, Killian was determined to speak to her for just a little longer. "It'll feel like that," he admitted,. "For quite some time, like you can't get to know anyone and trust doesn't exist, and if it does it isn't worth a damn."

He realized she was looking at him expectantly, bright eyes so young, but not unfamiliar with betrayal and pain. "And then what?"

She needed that answer, even as he felt himself being pulled away from her. "And then you find your family. They might not be blood, but they'll be the ones who stay no matter how many times you try to push them away. Or screw up," he added ruefully.

At least he succeeded in getting a grin out of her. "You found yours?"

"Found, didn't realize, lost, found again." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Did that a few times, actually, but they aren't counting. And you always find your way back home. You'd be surprised how stubborn that pull can be."

Annoyingly strong, sometimes. But not quite as bad as the Dark One's pull, which forced him to turn away from her.

"Heading out?" she asked, eyeing his rather sudden, jerky movement.

He nodded. "Aye, Lass, I believe I have a bus to catch. But you take care of yourself."

He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay with all his heart.

"And by the way," he called, turning around and taking steps backward. He saw her head turn. "A little less elbow, a little more wrist for that door."

But that heart wasn't with him, and it was forcing him to walk away and round the corner.

* * *

**I know that if you want to get technical, Killian isn't really an orphan, but I still feel that with what we know about his past and his father and losing Liam, he had to do a lot of growing up and taking care of himself. **

**But anyway, I hope this was a good one! As always, I love to hear feedback and I'm always up for requests**


	27. Run

**So here we have a request for young Emma and young Killian to run away together. This isn't related to the other Lieutenant Duckling ones that I have written, simply because the timing doesn't work with the way this one kind of came together. Anywho, I hope you all like it!**

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27\. Run

"All right, that's it," Killian said out of the blue, the slightest hint of exasperation in his voice.

Emma continued to walk beside him, feet crunching on the gravel path in the palace garden, but she turned to look at him, somewhat tense because she knew where this was going.

Since her birthday the week earlier...strange things had begun to occur, things for which Emma had no explanation. Things that she couldn't talk to anyone about. And, because these things had engulfed her attention, she really hadn't been speaking very much to anyone. Including her best friend.

Still, it wouldn't come up if she could help it. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Emma," Killian said, stopping and facing her. "You know what I'm talking about."

From the way she folded her arms across her chest, seeming to hug them to herself for comfort, Killian knew she did. "Please, Emma, talk to me. Not a day has gone by that I can remember when we didn't talk, and all this week you've been distant and quiet. I mean, is it me?"

"No!" she exclaimed, taking his hands in hers and sitting on the edge of the fountain. "No, Killian, of course it isn't you."

"Good," he replied, satisfied to a small degree. "I do spend most of my time on boats, and I know the smell of fish can be a little overpowering. "

"You smell fine," she affirmed. He was pleased that this got a smile out of her, even if it was a tiny one that only lasted for a moment. "I'm sorry," she continued. "I didn't mean to shut you out. This week, ever since the party, has just been...trying."

Killian watched with concern as her clenched fists gave way to white knuckles. "Have you spoken to anyone about it?"

She shook her head, and if she had not looked so miserable, he would have been pleased that no one else had found out before he did. "I don't know if I can. I'm...I'm afraid."

He leaned in close and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. He had never seen her like this before. "Afraid of what?"

It was a few moments before she answered, but Killian remained patient. When she did finally reply, he noted that her hand rose, palm up, with trembling fingers. "I'm afraid of myself."

Emma watched his face, her lips drawn into a thin line, and Killian watched her hand. Where moments before there had been nothing, there was now a small, floating white orb.

Killian blinked. Then he blinked again. And again. But each time he reopened his eyes, the ball of light was still there. "Um...how, exactly, are you doing that?"

"I don't know," she breathed, her heart rate slowly returning to only slightly faster than normal. She wasn't sure of the reaction she had been expecting from him. Maybe he would run away, or take a few steps back, or at least lean away. But he didn't.

Instead, he looked curious, as if it was something to be inspected. He leaned in slightly, one finger of one hand extended, reaching -

"What are you doing?" she demanded in a hushed whisper, pulling her hand back. The light extinguished. "Why would you try to touch it?!"

He seemed as bewildered by her actions as she was by his. "Curiosity? Don't you want to know -"

"No!" she interrupted him again. "I don't! I don't want to know anything about it other than if there's a way to get rid of it."

"Emma, it's magic!" He kept his voice hushed, but her wide eyes on her pale face still darted about, checking for anyone who could be listening. "You have something that no one else has, it makes you unique."

"It makes me dangerous," she countered. "Yes, it's magic, but don't you know the stories? Rumplestiltskin, the Evil Queen...they did magic, and it was terrible."

Killian's mouth parted and his eyes searched her terrified face. "How could you think you could ever be like that?" he breathed. "You are all that is good and peaceful and light and all that other fluffy bunnies and rainbows stuff!" Even as she grinned at his comment, he caught the tear that leaked from her eye with his thumb.

"Don't you see, though? I'm supposed to rule, be a leader. I can't take that chance with the lives of all the people in this kingdom."

He nodded, still not in agreement, but in understanding. "Then what do you suggest?"

She took one long, deep breath before replying, "Remember when we were children, and we used to imagine what it would be like if we just took off?" He nodded, remembering all those times they had pretended after that one time he had proposed they run and not look back. "Does that offer still stand?"

* * *

"I can't believe you live like this all the time," Emma said. In the dead of night, all the fishmongers had long since departed, and the only scent was that of the salty sea breeze. With her eyes closed and the corners of her mouth pulled up, Killian saw her, for the first time that week, genuinely happy. She turned to him. "Thank you for doing this for me. I...I know it couldn't have been easy."

"Oh, Emma," he whispered, a crooked smile on his lips, "You make it seem like I could have said no to you."

* * *

**So this is what I came up with. I'd love to hear thoughts, because I feel like I can probably do a little more with it and continue it a bit. Let me know!**

**Also, I was just looking around and saw that this drabble series has been added to a C2 so thank you to whoever is responsible for that! **


	28. Home

**Part 2, continuing what was in the last drabble about Emma and Killian running away. There are a few things about Snow and Charming looking, but mostly this is about how Emma's magic manifests itself. Enjoy this accidentally very long installment!**

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28\. Home

Two days at sea was nothing for Killian, but it was more than enough for Emma.

They had set off late that night, sailing through the dark to gain some distance before anyone in the palace realized they were gone. By the time the sun had begun to show itself over the horizon, the two had put a number of miles between themselves and the enchanted forest, and Emma watched her first sunrise on the water with awe.

It was a small boat, but Killian still needed a little help with the sails, so much of that first day was spent teaching Emma. She was a quick learner, and she threw herself into the light workload, Killian knew, so as to distract herself from the sparks or light that he occasionally saw from her hands and fingers. But she seemed happy.

And then night came. Killian was accustomed to sleeping on ships, feeling the waves rocking him to sleep, hearing the soothing ocean lullaby.

Emma, on the other hand, was awake all night; the swaying of the boat was anything but comforting. When the sun rose again the following morning, she was by no means impressed.

"Emma?" Killian said near late afternoon, a slight hesitation in his voice.

"Yes?" she sighed, her voice tired. There were circles visible under her eyes.

Killian cleared his throat. He assumed that the last time Emma had slept was back at the palace, in her own bed, two days ago. "Your...um...hands."

Emma knit her eyebrows together, brain a little fuzzy from lack of sleep, and looked down. "Oh, no," she groaned. Her hands were glowing white, and she hand't even noticed. "How long have they been like that?"

"Not sure," Killian began, rubbing the back of his neck, "I first noticed them this morning but then it went away, came back around midday, went away. They were like that about an hour ago but I figured it would go away again."

"How could I not even have noticed?" she asked, more to herself than Killian. She glared at her hands, willing them to return to normal. The light flickered at first, like a lightbulb, but then it came back, brighter and stronger than it had been before, and even sparking a few times from her fingers. Terror took over Emma's face. "I try to stop it and I only make it worse!"

She made a small choking sound, and Killian knew the most stressful part of her life paired with two days without sleep was a terrible combination. He took three quick steps forward and pulled her to his chest. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him in response, but refused to let her hands touch his back, instead squeezing his sides with her forearms to communicate how much she needed his comfort.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted, her voice small and afraid.

He smoothed her hair with one hand. "Then we'll find someone who does. We'll find someone to teach you, help you -"

She broke the hug, shaking her head. "I don't mean just with this," she said, holding up her still glowing hands. She indicated the whole boat and the water around them. "I mean with all of this. I don't know what I'm doing. I thought leaving would be the answer but...I think I was wrong."

A surge of hope rose in Killian's chest. "Are you saying you want to go back?" A true man knows his weaknesses, and Killian's was Emma. He would openly admit that if she had wanted to go to the moon, he would find a way to make it happen. But this endeavor in no way had his full support.

"I'm not sure...I think I was trying to run from the wrong thing." Her eyes drifted back down to her hands.

"Can't run from yourself, Love." She looked up at Killian's rueful grin.

But those accepting, clear blue eyes were exactly what she needed to see, and a wave of calmness washed over her. "Let's go home."

And later that night, sitting in Killian's lap, Emma's hands stopped glowing, and she finally drifted to sleep.

* * *

"Snow," Charming said, to no avail. His wife's frantic imagination continued to spin tales.

"We've searched the town, the nearby villages, every inch of the Enchanted Forest -"

"Snow," he tried again.

"What if she was attacked, or kidnapped -"

"Snow -"

"- and we'll just have to wait and be useless until we hear something about a ransom!"

Charming ran his hands up and down his wife's arms. She jumped slightly at the contact, having been so focused on her imaginary worst case scenarios. "Snow, please. Believe me, I'm worried too, but this kind of stress isn't going to help her. The whole kingdom is searching. We have to do our best to stay calm."

She nodded her understanding, but continued anyway. "It's been three days."

He pulled her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. "I know, but we can't give up hope. She's smart and she's strong, and it looks like she has Killian will her. They'll take care of each other, just like they alway -"

The door slamming open cut him off. A guard, out of breath, panted, "The princess has returned!"

"Just now?" Charming asked, running with Snow to the guard and following him down the corridors.

The guard nodded. "Yes, she and Killian Jones."

As soon as they arrived at the entrance hall and saw, Snow told the guard, "Send word that Killian is back and safe as well, his family needs to know," and practically flew down the stairs to her daughter, whom she threw her arms around. "You're safe," she breathed, more to herself than anyone else.

Charming wasn't far behind, wrapping an arm around Emma and reaching out with the other to grasp Killian's shoulder. "Are either of you hurt?"

In response to the pair of shaking heads, Snow began to rattle off questions rapid fire. "What happened? Who took you? Where were you? How did you escape?"

"Mom," Emma started.

"Just a name, that's all we need, and whoever it was, we'll find -"

"Mom, no one took us."

The words were loud, blurted out, like ripping off a bandage. And to Snow and Charming, the sting of hearing that their child left of her own accord hurt just the same. Snow looked as if she had been slapped. "Emma," her father said, trying to find words and keep his voice level, "we've been worried sick for three days. We've used every available resource to look for you. We personally searched every inch of the Enchanted Forest. How could you just leave, and how could you drag Killian along with you?"

Of all the things Charming had expected his daughter to say, what she did say was not it. "Because I was scared." Her eyes began to shimmer slightly, and for what felt like the hundredth time in the last three days, Charming and Snow were completely bewildered. "I was doing what I thought was best, and it took me a few days before I realized how wrong I was."

"Emma, what are you talking about?"

Both of her parents caught the uneasy glance their daughter exchanged with Killian, and his nod to Emma was their only hope of soon understanding. Emma breathed a deep, shaky breath, and let her hands glow white. Her nerves and lack of control caused it to flicker, but from the looks on her parents' faces, she knew she had gotten her point across. Words spilled from her mouth and tears from her eyes. "It started after my birthday last week, and I couldn't make it stop or figure out a way to control it, and I read all the stories in the library about magic and destruction and darkness and I thought that if I stayed I would bring that on the kingdom so I convinced Killian to help me run away but I realized that I was wrong because it only made this worse and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you but I was afraid that -"

"Emma," Killian interrupted with a hand on her back, "I think they understand."

Snow remembered a time when she had to kneel to be eye level with her daughter. Now, Emma was almost as tall as she was. "We are your family, and you have nothing to fear." Snow brought a finger up to wipe away Emma's tears. "This will always be your home, and no matter what happens, we will find a way to work through it. Is that clear?" Emma nodded, biting her lip to keep it from trembling as a tear leaked from her mother's eyes. "Good," Snow said before enveloping her daughter in a tight hug.

"We can help you explain to your parents exactly what happened," King David said to Killian, who was initially taken aback by the offer, but very quickly accepted it; it was true that he hadn't given much thought to what he was going to tell his parents.

"I also want to thank you, Killian," the king continued, a sincere tone of gratitude in his voice, "for going with her. I suspect she had to do this, for herself, and she would have left no matter what. You kept her safe and brought her home, and for that, I thank you."

"I always will," Killian replied simply with a shrug before he could really think about it. His eyes popped open as he realized the informality of what he had said. He turned his attention from Emma to King David, almost afraid of what he would see.

But the king was smiling, and there was a note of approval as he said, "I know."

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


	29. Valentine

**Hello, wonderful readers! Here we have a request for David and Mary Margaret explaining Valentine's Day to Killian. Kinda short but hopefully cute and sweet, enjoy!**

* * *

29\. Valentine

"So let me get this straight," Killian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as suggestions and rules and etiquette bounced around in his head like a pinball. "I have to take her out to dinner -"

"Some place nice," David interrupted.

Mary Margaret nodded. "Where you have to get dressed up a little."

"Right," Killian continued, "and then I bring her flowers."

"Preferably her favorite," Mary Margaret added.

Killian drew a blank. "What if I don't know her favorite flower?"

"Roses," David replied simply.

"How about in her favorite color?" Killian asked, but he had barely gotten the words out before Mary Margaret's eyes seemed to almost bulge out of her head.

"Oh no, oh no, no, no," she warned. Even David was shaking his head. "They have to be red."

"Red says, 'I love you,' " David explained.

"Pink is okay," Mary Margaret said. "Pink is more like, 'I appreciate you,' in a sweet, endearing way."

Killian thought he was beginning to develop a headache. "Flowers have meanings?"

The couple nodded fervently. "So definitely no yellow," David continued. "Yellow is friendship."

"And white is more for marriage."

"Orange is just odd, definitely don't get -"

Killian threw up his hands. "Okay, okay, got it. Red roses only." He sighed audibly. _Nice dinner, red roses_. "What else? You said something about chocolate?"

Again, the couple nodded. "Chocolates are pretty much a Valentine's Day staple."

"And do different kinds of chocolate have meanings I should know about? Dark? Milk? White?"

"Of course not," Mary Margaret laughed, as if it was a ridiculous notion. How was he supposed to know? "Just get her favorite."

Dark chocolate it was then. _Nice dinner, red roses, dark chocolate_. "And a gift, too, you said?"

"Usually jewelry of some kind is the way to go," David said.

"Although," Mary Margaret added thoughtfully, "this technically is your first Valentine's Day, so you don't have to go above and beyond with a gift."

David nodded in agreement with his wife. "You would probably be better off getting her something that can remind her of you, or something that symbolizes your relationship."

Killian racked his brain. Symbols of their relationship? Sword fights? Magic beans?

"Or you can do something nice for her," Mary Margaret suggested. "You know, a romantic gesture. You could cook her dinner."

"Wait, I thought I was taking her out to dinner?"

Mary Margaret gave a slight shrug. "Either works, as long as it's romantic."

"And make a good dessert," David added.

"Dessert?" Killian questioned. "But I'm getting her chocolate."

Mary Margaret shook her head, slowly. "The chocolate isn't part of the dinner."

_Nice dinner, in or out. Dark chocolate. Dessert that isn't chocolate. Red roses. Maybe jewelry, probably not a magic bean._

Killian's head was spinning.

He regretted ever asking about this St. Valentine guy and why on earth he got his own day marked on calendars.

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**Thanks for reading! **


	30. Thanksgiving

**Soooo ya'll remember this? (mid season 2)**

_**David: So Rumplestiltskin is Henry's grandfather?  
****Mary Margaret: Apparently.  
****D: But I'm his grandfather.  
****MM: You can have more than one.  
****D: ...So his step-grandmother is...Regina?  
****MM: Actually, his step-great-grandmother...and she's also his adopted mother.  
****D: It's a good thing we don't have Thanksgiving in our land, because that would suck.**_

**Of course it was the first thing I thought of when I got the request for Thanksgiving with the whole gang, here's what I came up with. Enjoy!**

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30\. Thanksgiving

David and Mary Margaret sat patiently, and a little stiffly, at the table in Granny's. Plenty of people were in the little diner for Thanksgiving dinner - only Granny could cook a turkey that well, and she did something to the sweet potatoes that made them absolutely divine.

But even the sounds of laughter and conversation and the smell of freshly baked dinner rolls wasn't enough to keep David and Mary Margaret from descending into silence in anxious anticipation. A wonderful dinner was coming soon - but so were the guests.

"We did tell them 5:30, didn't we?" Mary Margaret asked. David nodded. She and he husband both checked the clock, which said it was 5:30 exactly. "Maybe they all just got hung up finishing things for work. You know, sheriff and shop owner and mayor and all..." she trailed off, looking to David for some kind of reassurance. Again, he nodded.

Another moment of silence passed before Mary Margaret sighed and turned to her husband again. "Did I make a terrible mistake?"

David put his arm around his wife, looked her in the eyes, opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and nodded once more.

Finally, the bell over the door chimed, signaling someone's entrance into the diner. Upon seeing it was Emma and Killian, Mary Margaret stiffened. She felt David squeeze her shoulder for support.

"Sorry we're a few minutes late," Emma said as she removed her gloves and scarf. Killian shrugged off his jacket and pulled out a chair for her. "Got caught up at the station with..." As she took her seat, she appeared to lose her train of thought. Killian's eyebrows were knit together as he noticed it too. "Why are there extra seats?"

Mary Margaret looked paralyzed, so David spoke up, none too eloquently. "Well, you see, your mother thought - and I thought - we thought it would be nice if maybe we had a full family dinner for Thanksgiving."

Killian pointed to the chairs. "So if these two are for Regina and Henry, then those two are for...?"

Mary Margaret swallowed and plastered a smile on her face. "Henry's other grandparents."

"Are you kidding me?" Emma exclaimed in a shocked whisper. Killian rubbed a hand through his hair. "What were you thinking?"

The bell chimed again, and all four heads snapped up to see Regina and Henry enter. Almost immediately, a slight surprise showed on Regina's face as she arched one of her eyebrows. "Two extra chairs? Are we having extra guests?"

Killian waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know, just the man who wants to kill me and his wife that I almost killed."

"Oh," Regina said, voice thick with sarcasm, "the same woman I kept locked in a tower?" She sank into her chair, looking at everyone. "Wait a minute, Gold actually agreed to this? To dinner with us all?"

David suddenly became very interested in the wall to his left. Emma appeared to deflate even more than she already had. "You didn't tell him Killian would be here, did you?"

"No," Mary Margaret replied, taking a breath. "I didn't. But would you have just come right along if I had told you?"

Killian raised his hand. "I would have said something, given my history with the Crocodile." His discomfort was obvious.

"Believe me," a voice said from behind them, "I would have said something too."

Amidst their conversation, the group had missed the arrival of Gold and Belle. The newcomers did not sit.

"Well, just for tonight," Mary Margaret started, sitting up a little straighter, "he is not the Crocodile and no one wants to kill anyone." If she was going to go through with this, it would be with all of her confidence. "And we're all going to have a lovely dinner with nice conversation because Thanksgiving is about family and even though we didn't all chose each other and we are extremely dysfunctional, we are still technically a family, and so we are going to act like a family and eat together like a family and converse like a family. Is that clear?"

There was a moment of silence, during which time there was unspoken agreement that civility would at least be the attempted manner of the evening.

"Good," Mary Margaret said, taking the silence as an affirmation. "Granny, I think we're ready for dinner."

"Hey, Grandpa?" Henry asked, breaking the silence. Mary Margaret smiled. If anyone was going to diffuse the tension, it was Henry.

"Yes?" David responded automatically.

"Oh, uh...other grandpa," Henry corrected. Mary Margaret's shoulders sank.

David blinked a few times, unaccustomed to not being the grandfather called. Gold turned to his grandson. "Yes, my boy?"

"Could you pass me the bread basket?"

As the bread got passed around the table, Granny and Ruby started to bring the food. Out from the kitchen came plates of turkey and ham, trays of lasagna, potatoes, and stuffing, and bowls of vegetables, all served family style.

And, to Mary Margaret's wonder, the family style serving appeared to actually be working.

"Mr. Gold," Killian said. Gold raised his head from his plate to look at Killian, eyebrows raised. "Could you pass the potatoes?"

Gold finished chewing and swallowed, and in that moment, everyone at the table took and held a breath. "Of course," he finally replied, putting down his fork, picking up the tray, and handing it to Regina, who in turn passed it to Killian.

Mary Margaret's heart leaped and she looked to her husband, who she could tell was thinking the same thing: Was this evening really going to be successful?

Belle was the next person to surprise them all. "Regina?"

Regina's head snapped up, absolutely shocked to have been addressed by Belle. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if I could speak to you some time about possibly making some slight renovations to the library? I've been thinking about a few changes, nothing major really..." She trailed off, not sure what else to say.

Slowly, a genuine smile spread on Regina's lips. "I think that's an excellent idea. Not enough people use the library, the children and teenagers especially."

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" Belle exclaimed. Her eyes lit up, as they usually did when she spoke of books. "Possibly a children's section, or something to make it friendlier to older children."

Regina nodded. "Stop by my office tomorrow and we can work something out."

Amidst the eating and the light conversation that was somehow miraculously occurring, Mary Margaret leaned over and whispered to her husband, "This is nice."

David smiled at his wife, and once more for the evening, he nodded.

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**I apologize for the long wait, I usually try to upload something once a week but school just started again so my time has suddenly disappeared. But I'll do my best with uploads and requests - I have one more coming! As always, thanks for reading.**


	31. Marriage

**Wow. This was just one of those weeks where you run around like a chicken with its head cut off and productively use every second of the day and somehow still have things left on the to-do list. And then you lose a day because you spend the whole time sick on the couch :( but on the bright side, it sparks an idea for another drabble! This is also partially inspired by the request for married life with Emma and Killian (sorry it took so long!). Enjoy!**

**Also, a huge thanks for over 100 reviews! I'm so glad you all are reading and enjoying these!**

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31\. Marriage

Killian could get used to this. He had never thought he'd be one for settling down - for being tied down, as he used to call it. But he could get definitely used to this. In fact, although it had only been a few weeks, he already was used to it. Marriage meant no more insecurity, on either of their parts. Marriage meant no more secrets. Marriage meant she was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes, and the first thing he saw when he opened them in the morning.

Except this morning.

Killian pushed himself to sit up in bed, listening for sounds coming from anywhere in the apartment. Occasionally Emma would get up first and make breakfast, but it was still on the early side for a Saturday morning, and he heard no noise coming from the kitchen. He did notice, though, that the bathroom door was closed.

Emma had probably just rolled out of bed, and it was her movement that had caused him to wake up. He sank back into the pillows, knowing she would come back to bed in a minute or two.

But she didn't, not after a minute or two or five. If she was in the shower, he would have heard the rushing water. Emma usually didn't shut the door all the way if she was just brushing her teeth and washing up, which she had no reason to do this early on a Saturday anyway.

Concerned, Killian pushed off the blankets and headed to the bathroom door. "Emma?" he asked, knocking.

"Yeah," he heard her call back softly. It wasn't her usual voice; the reply was quiet and weak.

And moments later was followed by a rather unfortunate, unmistakable sound.

Killian's hand shot for the handle, and he hurriedly opened the door and entered the bathroom.

"Damn," Emma said from her seat on the floor in front of the toilet. Her face was a shade paler than normal. Strands of blond hair stuck to her forehead. "I thought I locked it."

Killian chuckled softly and moved to kneel next to her. He grabbed her brush and a hair tie from the counter, and gently gathered her hair and pulled it into a loose ponytail. "I'm glad you didn't."

Emma groaned. "I'd rather you not see me like this. I'd rather no one see me like this."

Killian sighed at his wife. "Moments of weakness don't count," he assured her. If there was one thing anyone could say for certain about Emma Swan, it was that she was neither weak nor vulnerable. "And besides, didn't I just say something a few weeks ago about for better or worse, sickness and health and the like?"

Even with her head partially in the toilet bowl, Killian could hear the ruefulness in her voice as she said, "Yeah, I just didn't think it would be this soon." She raised her head to look at him.

Killian rubbed circles on her back. "I told you once, Love, quite some time ago, that I was in this for the long haul. That still holds." He kissed her forehead. "So if you look at it that way, it really hasn't been so soon since I agreed to all this."

Finally, he saw her smile, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Marriage meant sitting on the bathroom floor with her and holding up her hair. Marriage meant getting her a glass of water and helping her get back into bed. Marriage meant running to the store for saltine crackers and heating up bowls of chicken broth.

Marriage meant being in it for the long haul.

Yes, Killian was sure he could get used to this.

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**Hope you all liked it, and as always, requests are awesome! No promises on getting them done in a timely fashion, but they will be done :D**


	32. Civil

**Apologies for being MIA for a month. I remember thinking, "I'll get this posted before the first episode." Obviously that didn't work (oh, school work, why must you treat me so?). But anyway OUAT CAME BACK! *PTERODACTYL SCREECH* I'm such an Arthurian legend dork. Disappointed that Kai went POOF, and seriously, Percival, not cool. Your thoughts? I'm a little annoyed that they've all lost their memories (again) but I do like the way they go back and forth between to Camelot and it's like a puzzle trying to piece everything together.**

**Anywho, this is a request I got some time ago, to use this prompt:** "I'm sure you and your ego have any number of admirers but I was just trying to warn you that your backpack has fallen open and it's right under that," Emma retorted while pointing up to the leaking pipe. The 'flirt' fell off Killian's face.** And here it is! I do have one more request pending for a sequel to the previous chapter, and I'm on it, I promise!**

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32\. Civil

It wasn't that Emma didn't want to be there. She was saving her family, saving Henry, embracing magic and vanquishing evil and everything else that Saviors were supposed to do. It was just...well...

She completely, utterly, and with every fiber of her being did not want to be there. And it wasn't because she had just climbed a beanstalk to a ridiculous height and was now biding her time by sitting against the wall in a giant's castle. Emma had learned long ago that the destination was not always what could make or break a journey; frequently, it was the company.

And her companion was most definitely breaking it.

His devilish smirk, the mischievous gleam in his eyes; the bad boy charm was nothing new to her, and not something she was impressed by. At all. The accent wasn't even doing anything for her. Even the way he was seated on the floor - back against the wall, ankles crossed, looking completely comfortable - bothered her. How could he ignore that annoying dripping?

She had kept her eye on him all day, but at the moment she wasn't sure what he was doing; her attention was on finding the source of the drip. Eventually, her eyes found their way to leaking pipe, above Hook and slightly to the left.

She debated for a moment, because, all things considered, she didn't have to say anything. But he was who she was stuck with, and the least she could do was attempt to be civil.

"Hey," she said.

From his position seated on the floor, he turned his head to look at her, and grinned. Already she was regretting her decision. "Well," he smirked, "look who's finally decided to be vocal again. Haven't heard a peep from you since the beanstalk." He laced his fingers behind his head. "I was beginning to think you didn't like me."

He didn't seem too concerned about it. "Wouldn't want that," she replied with an eye roll. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know that-" She caught the look on his face and interrupted herself. "What?"

He shrugged, but his eyes hinted that he was thinking something that hadn't occurred to her. "Just interested in hearing what you have to say." She was dubious; his eyebrows were raised, less inquisitive than provocative. He picked up on her doubt. "I'm quite serious, you know. As I said, you spoke very little after our conversation on the beanstalk. I'll admit, I've yet to figure you out, Swan."

"That bother you?" she asked, hoping that just maybe it would.

Unfortunately, it didn't appear to. "I don't mean to brag," he scoffed, seeming to be doing just that, "but I do generally have ease when conversing with women."

Emma blinked a few times, gathering her patience. "I'm sure you and your ego have any number of admirers, but I was just trying to warn you that your backpack has fallen open and it's right under that," Emma retorted, pointing up to the leaking pipe.

The flirt fell off Killian's face.

Apparently, there was a perk to being civil.

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**Hope you enjoyed! I know I've been slow with updates lately but feel free to leave requests/prompts anyway! **


	33. Confused

**Sorry it's been, like...2 months. Believe me, I would much rather have been writing drabbles and one-shots for you all than 10 page papers for my classes, and I really had no time to breathe or sleep but now I'm done with The Semester From Hell! As of 24 hours ago, I'm home on break so YAY for me and YAY for actually having the time to write! Anyway, I got a request for a part two to chapter 31 "Marriage" a veeeerrrry long time ago (apologies, again) and wow. Let me say that obviously my school work took its mental toll because this idea didn't even occur to me. So I took that review and ran with it :) A nice long one for you all, some fun, cute fluff in light of the mid-season finale (commence tears)**.

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33\. Confused

Killian sat up in bed, arms folded across his chest, staring at the bathroom door with concern in his eyes. This was the third morning that Emma had woken up and dashed into the bathroom, but it was the first time that he had heard the click of the lock before he could even roll out of bed.

After a minute, he got up and walked over to knock on the door. "Emma?"

"I'm okay," he heard her call back, although he could tell it was a weak response. And then he heard her cough.

"Emma, this is the third day in a row," he replied, "Are you sure?"

"I just..." There was a pause, and Killian wasn't sure if it was her hesitating on her own or if she had turned to the toilet again. "I just need a minute alone."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "To throw up in the toilet? Emma, this can't be healthy -"

"Killian, please."

He sighed to himself. "Whatever you need, Love." Leaning up against the door frame, he realized he wasn't entirely sure if he was more worried or confused by her at the moment. "Although, just so you know, I'm calling David to let him know you won't be at the station today."

After a moment of silence, he heard, "Okay." A knot formed in his stomach; Emma Swan did not miss work, and she would most certainly not let him take care of it. "Can I talk to my mom after?"

"Of course," he replied, walking somewhat in a daze over to the phone and dialing the number. She wouldn't let him in but she'd talk to Mary Margaret, so at least it was something. But she was willing to miss a day of work, so something was definitely wrong. But if it was that bad she would talk to him -

He was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of David's voice. "Hello?"

"David, it's Killian," he said. "Sorry it's so early, but Emma's sick. I wanted you to know she won't be at the station today."

David's lips set into a frown, both at the news and at the tone in Killian's voice. "Is she all right?"

Killian shrugged and made a helpless gesture even though David couldn't see. "I'm not sure, she locked herself in the bathroom. But she did say she wanted to talk to Mary Margaret."

"I'll go get her."

Killian walked back to the bathroom and knocked. "Emma? I've got Mary Margaret on the phone." After a moment, he heard the click of the lock. Emma opened the door, looking tired and rather pale, just as she had the past two mornings. But he didn't press her for details or make her let him in; he just handed the phone over and watched as she closed the door with a half-hearted smile.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, Killian had just gotten dressed when he heard a knock at the door. It was still before nine, so the only explanation could be David and Mary Margaret. When he opened the door and let the couple in, he saw he was right.

But Mary Margaret, a small bag in her hand, hurriedly walked right by him, past the kitchen, through the bedroom, and to the bathroom. From their place in the kitchen, Killian and David heard a knock, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing again. Killian placed his elbows on the island in the kitchen and rested his chin against his hands.

"How're you doing over there?" David asked, leaning against the island as well.

"I've had better mornings." Killian sighed and looked down at the marble of the island. "I just wish she'd talk to me. I know she hates seeming weak or whatever the complex is, and that sometimes she just wants to handle everything herself and not ask anyone for help or tell anyone what's going on. I just thought we had moved past that, especially if something is really wrong."

When he looked up, David was looking at him. "You have moved past that. As one who speaks from experience, trust me. I can see it." The slightest smile spread across his face.

Killian's eyebrows knit together, wondering what David knew that he didn't. "What are you smiling about?" he asked curiously, confused yet again.

David shrugged, not really answering as he replied, "You don't have anything to worry about."

Before he could question it further, the door to the bathroom opened, and both women came into the kitchen, Emma still in her pajamas, and Mary Margaret with her eyes slightly rimmed red.

"Good morning, Killian," Mary Margaret greeted, as if she had just entered the apartment. She reached up to hug him.

"Morning," he said, responding to surprisingly strong hug. "Are you all right?"

"Me?" she asked. "Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" She let go, swiped at her cheek, and moved to the other side of the island to take her husband's hand. "Come on, David, we have errands."

Killian watched in bewilderment as David waved goodbye and the two hurried out of the apartment. He blinked a few times at the door as it shut, but after a moment just shook his head. This entire family baffled him.

"Emma," he said, his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can you please, please just tell -" He barely had time to catch her as Emma ran towards him, throwing her arms around his neck and jumping so her legs wrapped around his waist. Her lips crashed against his and she tangled her fingers in his hair. Momentarily, all thoughts left his brain and he kissed her back, matching her eagerness and carrying her back to the bedroom

But out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the bathroom.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. "Emma, Love," he said, panting slightly, "I'm very glad you're feeling better, and normally I don't mind when you do that to shush me, but I've only been awake for about an hour and I've spent the entire time rather puzzled."

"That last little bit included?" she asked, unwrapping her legs from around his waist.

He nodded as he set her feet gently back on the floor. "That last little bit most of all. Please remember that you locked yourself in the bathroom up till about 5 minutes ago."

"I remember -"

"And that you wouldn't let me in."

"I know -"

"Or talk to me at all, really, for that matter."

"Yes, but -"

"And I was rather worried given that it's the third -"

"Killian, I'm going to shush you again," she warned. He opened his mouth, remembering that he'd received worse threats in his life. But then he shut it, remembering that none of those threats had ever come from his wife. "Sit down and I'll explain." Killian sat on the bed and watched as Emma went back into the bathroom and came out with a small, thin, blue and white stick-like item in her hand. "This is what I needed Mary Margaret to bring me."

Killian blinked. "A thermometer?" he guessed.

"Um," Emma began as she took a seat next to him on the bed, trying to hold back laughter. "Nope, not a thermometer. It's a..." she hesitated, taking a breath. "It's a pregnancy test."

He started at it, and Emma wasn't sure whether or not he was actually seeing it. "I...uh...I didn't know they had...tests, um, for that." Emma noticed that his face was a shade or two paler than usual. "So...what exactly does two lines mean?"

Emma simply nodded.

"So that's a yes?"

Emma kept nodding, biting her lip a little. She watched worriedly as Killian glanced down at his hands. "Well that explains a lot," he said with a chuckle to himself, and when he looked back up, he was beaming, and she could have sworn she saw a glassy look to his eyes. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face against her hair. "You know, you could have told me a little earlier, saved me some worry, some confusion."

"And miss you calling a pregnancy test a thermometer? I don't think so."

"Oh, come on, I just figured out how to get the phone right, give me a break," he complained, but only half-heartedly. After everything that had happened that morning, ending with Emma resting her head against his chest, genuinely giggling and smiling for the first time in the last few days, he didn't really care. David's words that he had nothing to worry about came back to him, and in that moment, he felt that truer words had never been spoken.

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** As always, please leave a review to let me know what you think, to let me know about a request or prompt, or simply to vent about how Adam and Eddy are trying to kill us with emotions. I have absolutely no doubt they were thinking exactly about that when they were planning and writing. And then they laughed -_-**


	34. Princess

**Hello all! I hope everyone who celebrated had a lovely Christmas and has been enjoying more than stressing about the holiday season! :) Anywho, this is one of the prompts I received (the rest are soon to follow):**

_Can you also do one where it's set when Killian was Hook and Emma is a princess and meets him due to sneaking into a tavern at night when her parents are asleep. Also, when Hook stumbles upon her, he reads her and discovers that Emma wants adventure and not to be stuck in her princess life and starts to make advances on her and to Hook's astonishment, Emma reciprocates and slowly Hook starts to corrupt her and makes her a pirate and makes her 'I don't want to go home Killian, this is my home' type of girl._

**So here's my take on it. Enjoy!**

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34\. Princess

It wasn't often that Captain Hook saw someone like her in the tavern. The women at the bar were usually much more...free, he supposed was a good word for it. They were free of their cares of how many drinks they'd had, free of their worries of how low their necklines were plunging, and free of their inhibitions of how loudly they were laughing or how obnoxiously they were clinging to their respective suitors for the evening.

But this woman...she was different. From her modest, plain dress, to the way she hesitated in the doorway before squaring her shoulders and marching right up to the bar, Hook wasn't quite sure what to make of her, other than assuming that a tavern was most certainly not her normal territory. Her blonde hair was much too well kept, and her dress, though simple, was of high quality material. But most noticeable of all, she sat perfectly straight. Not in the kind of way that told him she was uncomfortable, although she may have been, but that she had been trained to sit that way since before she had even known there was another way to sit.

It was a combination of all these things that brought a smirk to his face and took his feet forward.

"Come here often, Princess?" he whispered, close to her ear. She jerked up and her head snapped in his direction, eyes wide. She searched his face, and her expression told him she wondered how he could know. But then, she seemed to sigh and shrug to herself.

"Well, obviously not," she replied, her tone revealing some of her usual royal command and boldness. "What gave me away?"

"You're sitting rather stiffly," he explained. He placed his right hand at the small of her back, and ran it lightly, slowly, up to between her shoulder blades, where he applied light pressure. "Don't you know how to relax?" he breathed.

He watched as goosebumps erupted down her arms, but she didn't flinch away. In fact, she allowed him to push her shoulders forward, ruining her posture. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she muttered back, "Teach me."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, Princess," he chuckled, "you couldn't handle it."

One of her eyebrows arched upwards, and the corner of her mouth pulled up into a smirk. She tilted her head slightly, as if to pity him. "Oh, Captain," she mocked, "perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it."

His jaw went slack momentarily, but he quickly recovered. "All right, Princess -"

"Emma," she interrupted.

"All right, Emma," he corrected. "Take one thing, anything at all, in this tavern that isn't yours."

Given a task, she immediately surveyed the room, eyes scanning the tavern and people. And then, her eyes stopped roaming. Much to Hook's surprise, she adjusted her bodice, pulling it lower. With a small smile on her lips, she rose from her seat and sauntered over to a man at a table, who was surrounded by three women, one of which had her arm draped possessively over his shoulders.

All Hook could do was laugh to himself, because that was the only thing that would lessen the shock. Within five minutes, the princess - Emma - had earned herself a seat at the table. Within ten, she had found her way into the seat next to the man's. Within fifteen, she was sitting on his lap, ignoring the glares from the three other women. A short while later, she whispered something in his ear, and from the way the man gazed after her as she sashayed away, Hook could tell it was a promise that would go unkept.

"Taking another woman's man," he observed when she returned, leaning up against the counter next to him. "Crafty, aren't you?"

She patted his arm. "Well then, I suppose that makes two things." He watched with hidden astonishment as she pulled out the man's purse, shaking it for the added effect of the sound of coins jingling. She casted a quick, final glance towards the man to see if he had noticed yet, but he had his three original ladies all hanging off of him once again. "He seems a little preoccupied at the moment, so I suggest we leave now," she reasoned, grabbing the coin purse and stashing it in a pocket hidden in the folds of her dress.

"Well played, Princess," Hook breathed, his brain screaming at his feet to follow her. "Well played."

* * *

"Behold," he proclaimed, raising a hand, "The Jolly Roger."

He led her from the dock, over the gangplank, and onto his ship. He watched, unsure why he cared so much about her opinion, as she trailed her hand along the rail. Her eyes toured the mast and the sails and the crow's nest and, finally, the horizon, where the very first light from the sun was tinting the dark sky slightly green. He didn't realize how long they had walked and talked since leaving the tavern, how many tales of the sea he had recounted to her.

"What do you see?" He stood next to her, body pitched towards her and leaning against the bulwark.

It was hard to tell what she was thinking exactly, but he was not at all surprised when she replied, "I see adventure. I see life. I see no strict schedules or ridiculous classes or guards on all sides." She turned her head to look at him. "I see freedom."

In the pit of his stomach, he felt torn. Was it selfish to ask her to stay, or selfish to tell her to go? He cleared his throat and looked away from her. "You don't belong here, Princess. This life...is not the life for you. Return to your castle and your carriage and your perfect posture -"

"No," she interrupted, bringing her hand up to his cheek, forcing his face back towards her. "That's what I'm saying. That," she pointed behind her, in the general direction of the Enchanted Forest and the royal palace, "hasn't felt like home in years. But what I've felt tonight, here, with you, this feels comfortable, this feels like home."

His cheeks were growing warmer from her hand, but he didn't flinch away. His eyes met hers and he muttered, softly but steadily, "Then stay...Emma. Stay."

* * *

**I think I may have made things happen really fast but I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	35. Free

**Got two requests for a continuation of chapter 34 with Emma's parents finding and confronting them, so here we go! I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted it to end as I was writing but this is what I came up with. Enjoy - it's a nice long one :) and Happy New Year!**

* * *

35\. Free

"Good, good!" Hook said, watching as Emma parried his attack and sidestepped out of the way. She was naturally nimble, thus making her footwork as superb as he could have hoped, and she had some minor experience with swords, having been taught a little by her father, but she had only learned proper stances; she didn't know how to fight like a pirate.

Soon enough, she would. Already, in the past week, she was beginning to anticipate his feints, starting to read his body language. He was doing the same though, and the next time he grinned was because he knew he had her.

He blocked her downward chop, pushing her cutlass up. He stepped in close to her and slid his foot behind hers. Face to face, only a few inches between their noses, she watched the smile that spread across his face. With that close proximity, her heart skipped a beat; she knew that look. And barely half a second later, she felt him give her a light push backwards. She let the surprise fill her eyes as she went to step backwards and tripped over his carefully positioned foot.

"Woah!" she exclaimed as she tumbled back. Just before hitting the deck, he grabbed her outstretched hand, stopping her fall.

"Remember," he said, that smirk still on his lips, "keep your balance."

She pursed her lips as she looked at him, unamused, but light danced in her eyes. He pulled her gently back to her feet, back to her position barely inches away from his face. Her eyes darted between his eyes and his mouth; it had only been a week since the first time she had met those lips with hers, but she doubted the feeling would ever get old.

Unbeknownst to the other, both of their hearts raced, quite perfectly in sync. He tilted her head up with a finger under her chin, closing those last few agonizing inches -

"THE ROYAL NAVY!"

Two heads snapped up to the crow's nest, their private moment completely ruined. They exchanged worried glances, hearts racing for an entirely different reason this time.

Hook ran to the crow's nest and called, "How many?"

"Two, Captain! Behind us!"

He met Emma at the aft, and the pair stared at the two black specks on the horizon. He brought his hand up to the small of her back, delicately placed but reassuring.

"We can outrun them," he said quietly in her ear, pressing his face into her hair. The scent of her hair mixed with the cool ocean breeze. It had turned into a kind of kryptonite he was unable to resist.

But he was jolted from his trance as he realized she was shaking her head. "We can't."

He turned her to face him, eyebrows raised. "Your faith in my ability is quite touching," he joked.

The smallest of smiles reached her mouth, but not her eyes. "I have no doubt you can outrun them, out sail them, any day, even with the wind against you." She placed her hand on his chest. "But we shouldn't, because that's all this will become. Day after day, running and outrunning over and over, always on the lookout -"

"Love, I'm a pirate," he reminded her softly, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, comforting. "My face has seen its fair share of wanted posters, I've done my fair share of running."

"Killian, please, listen to me. They'll think you've kidnapped me." He saw her eyes start to shimmer. "You'll be branded for treason, and they'll stop at nothing to hunt you down." She turned away from him, and he heard her voice start to shake. "I'm so sorry, Killian, this is all my fault. I was so stupid, to believe this could actually work, that I could stay here with you without any repercussions."

With a sad smile on his lips, Killian turned her face back to his. "I knew what I was getting myself into, Love."

* * *

Emma did not believe anything could be quite as loud as the _CRACK_ of wood on wood as the plank was put in position to act as a bridge between the two ships. Nor as loud as the rapid _thud, thud, thud_, of her parents' boots as they crossed that plank and stepped onto the Jolly.

And then she saw their faces, and someway, somehow, that was even louder. The strange mixture of terror and fury seemed to scream at her, sending chills down her spine. And then relief, as their eyes landed on her, followed quickly by astonishment, as they searched but did not find any bonds holding her in place, no threatening knife held to her throat.

"This, Pirate, is your one and only chance to let her go," King David said. Emma knew her father; if he had planned to say that, he would say it anyway.

Emma stepped forward, even though King David had addressed Hook. "He did not kidnap me. I went with him of my own volition."

"Emma," her mother breathed, shaking her head in confusion, as if she could blink and they would all wake up in the royal palace for just another ordinary day. "You are a princess."

"I'm aware," Emma replied, "and he will not have the threat of treason over his head."

She watched her father's eyes grow wider and wider, bewilderment and anger vying for control. And then he trained his eyes on Hook. "You miserable bastard," he said, his voice as eerily quiet as the scrape of steel as he drew his sword from its scabbard. Without thinking, Emma took a step forward, placing herself between her father and her pirate. "What kind of dark magic is this, brainwashing? What have you done to her?"

"I have done nothing to her, Your Majesty," Killian answered, his voice steady, his demeanor composed. "I would never do anything to hurt her, you have my word -"

"Your word," King David spat. He let out a short bark of humorless laughter. "And what does the word of a pirate mean, exactly? Because I would take that as a solid 'maybe I'm telling the truth.'"

Emma balled her fists in frustration. She looked to her mother, but the only thing she could read there was sadness and...pity? "Father -"

"Yes!" he shouted, finally raising his voice. "I am your father, you are my daughter, and as such you will -"

"I am your daughter!" she cried, "but I am NOT a child!" David looked as if she had slapped him in the face instead of interrupted his sentence; Snow had her eyes closed. "I'm eighteen years old! Tell me, why am I old enough to marry but not old enough to choose whom? Why am I old enough to rule a kingdom but not old enough to rule my own life?"

David paused, at a loss for words but angry momentum carrying him forward nonetheless. "Because-"

"She's right, David."

Emma exchanged a slack-jawed look with Killian, while David turned to his wife, looking at her like she had thrown a punch to his gut. "Snow," he said quietly, "she's too young to know or understand."

"She's no older than you were when you defied your father, broke off your engagement, and fell in love with a wanted bandit." She stepped towards him and brought a comforting hand up to his cheek. "How different is this?" She didn't give her husband time to answer before she walked to Emma and took her daughter's hands in her own. "Why did you do this?" It was not an accusatory statement, nor was there any demand behind the words; just genuine curiosity.

Emma took a deep, shuddering breath, unsure now that she was given the opportunity how exactly to express the feelings she had kept bottled up inside. "The palace began to feel like a prison," she admitted. "Rides through the forest weren't enough. I was always surrounded by guards on the same paths that I could walk blindfolded. There was never anything new or exciting or...or liberating." She swallowed. "So I snuck out my window. I wasn't sure where I was going, and this had honestly not been my plan." She gestured to the Jolly and the open sea. "I was going to be back before dawn. But somehow it happened, after I met Killian, because I had never felt more free."

"Why didn't you ever say anything to us?"

Emma looked into her father's eyes, vaguely wondering if it was possible for her to hurt him more than she already had, and desperately hoping it was not. "I couldn't. You and Mom never seemed to be around. The archery lesson, the trip into town, the family dinner, the ride in the forest, it was always tomorrow." She looked down at her feet. "And I never wanted to say anything, because I didn't know if there was something going on that my complaining would only make worse. I didn't think it would be fair if -"

She was cut off as two pairs of arms wrapped themselves around her and her face was smushed into her father's chest. "I'm so sorry, Emma," he muttered close to her ear.

She shut her eyes tight and held on to this moment. "If I return home, I want freer reign." Tears started to leak from her eyes. "And no harm will come to Killian."

She felt her father tense, and when he pulled away there was a hardness in his eyes that was only somewhat softened when his wife touched his arm. "No harm will come to the pirate," he conceded. "Consider this your probationary period," he added, addressing Hook directly.

Hook gave a quick nod in response, but Emma could see the tension in his shoulders, in the crease on his forehead. She removed herself from her family, threw her arms around Killian instead, and immediately felt him relax. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Nonsense," he murmured back, stroking her hair.

"It would have been easier had you never met me."

He chuckled lightly. "Easier, perhaps. But nothing good ever came easy." She pulled away when she felt him move a bit. From his pocket, he drew a leather box, the compass she had seen him use multiple times during the week. "Here," he said. He took her hand, opened it, and placed the compass in her palm. "I want you to have this."

She lifted the lid of the leather box and watched in confusion as the arrow first pointed to Killian, then to her parents, then back again, swinging between the two directions nonstop. "I don't understand..."

"A compass, Love, doesn't necessarily point north. It points you in the direction you want to go." He looked down at the arrow, still whizzing about. "You're torn." He shut the lid, took the box in his own hand, opened it, and saw the arrow flipping between Emma and the open sea. "As am I."

"No one ever said you can only have one home."

"Exactly," he said, taking her hand again. "For now, though, that is where you belong. This is where I belong." He gave her back the compass and curled her fingers around it.

"For now?" she repeated.

No mischievous glint in his eyes, no corner of his mouth upturned in a smirk, no light, easy-going tone in his voice. Just hope, sincerity, and a promise: "I'll be damned if I let it stay that way forever."

* * *

**Hopefully not too bad, I really had no idea where I was going with this because I didn't know how I wanted it to end ****soooo let me know what you think!**


	36. Dark

**Hello all, sorry for the delay, I spent a week reading rather than writing (The Lunar Chronicles, for anyone that isn't familiar, is a really fun read! The last book got kinda long, but anything semi-fairytale related makes me happy). Anywho, this was the request I got: **_Can you also make when Emma comes in the diner in Camelot where Hook has Merlin's heart and instead of Emma saying 'Don't crush it!', can she say 'Crush it.' _** I've never really given the darkness much attention - as I know I've mentioned, I'm more the fluffy bunnies and unicorns farting rainbows type - but I thought I'd give it a go. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

36\. Dark

The only thing that moved in the entire diner was the bell that chimed when Emma opened the door. After it stopped, silence.

Her eyes first found the one figure she had not expected to be there: Nimue. The woman turned to Emma, a smug expression on her face, a smirk on her lips. She knew how this was going to end.

Emma's gaze then met Merlin's. Even his silence could not hide that he was frantic, desperately attempting to think of some solution that did not end in his death, and in turn, the eventual victory of the darkness.

But, considering who else was in the room, that solution would likely never come to pass.

Finally, her eyes fell on Killian. He smiled at her arrival, a small, thin-lipped, emotionless smile that did not meet his eyes; a smile he had never given her before, not even when she had tied him to a tree and threatened to leave him for the ogres; a smile that spoke volumes of hatred.

She was certain his intention was to make her feel as if she had been slapped in the face, to make her feel useless, cold, empty, alone.

Dark.

And he succeeded.

No matter what she did.

Resistance was futile.

So she surrendered.

"Crush it."

A black fog tinted the edges of her vision, and when it cleared, she took in the shock and horror etched on Merlin's face. "Emma, no," he whispered, shaking his head in hopelessness.

She knew he wasn't talking about his heart. He was talking about something far more, far worse.

"Hmmm, just a smidge late for that, Deary," a sing-song voice trilled, echoing what they were all thinking. Rumplestiltskin winked at Emma when she turned to him. "Thanks for finally joining the party. Took you long enough."

"Indeed, it did," Hook muttered, looking at Emma in a different light.

Or, rather, darkness.

His smirk this time was genuine. His eyes held love. It was a tentative, twisted kind of love, but love nonetheless. A love that perhaps was not what she had originally wanted, but now that it was there in front of her, was what she never knew she needed.

Something clenched in the pit of her stomach, something clenched around her chest, a visceral reaction that forced her to close the distance between her and Killian. One hand slid behind his neck as she crushed her lips against his and felt him respond with the same intensity, the same ferocity, leaving not an inch of space between their bodies and making her now wonder why she had waited so long.

"This is all very touching," Nimue's bored voice interrupted, "but the clock is ticking."

After one last kiss, her forehead resting against his, she turned an annoyed eye on Nimue before returning her attention to Killian. She sensed his heartbeat, pumping rapidly in his chest, in time with hers. She trailed her hand from his stomach, over his chest and shoulder, down his arm to meet his hand. Her hand around his, his hand around Merlin's heart.

Still catching her breath, she looked into his eyes. She noticed the black circle that framed his irises before catching sight of her reflection in his eyes. Whether or not that was what made her image seem darker, she cared little. All she knew was that she liked it.

"Crush it," she repeated, breathless and still panting slightly.

Eyes still on his, a smile on her lips, she applied light pressure to his hand.

And beneath her hand, felt him do the same.

* * *

**I'd also like to take a moment and thank all of you who are reading these. I just noticed that it's officially been a year since I first published this collection of drabbles. So to all you favoriters and followers and reviewers and readers, both those that have been here from the beginning and anyone who joined the party along the way, thanks so much for favoriting and following and reviewing and reading.**

**Also, we're less than 50 days (I think 42 or 43) away from embarking on the journey to the Underworld TO SAVE HOOK!**


	37. Blizzard

**So, given that I'm part of that bunch that's still cleaning up from the _lovely_ winter storm a few days ago, this popped into my head and I ran with it. It went longer than I had expected it to but that just means more Captain Swan fluff to enjoy to celebrate the one and only Colin O'Donoghue's birthday!**

* * *

37\. Blizzard

Emma had expected the weather to take a lot out of her. She just hadn't thought it would be _that_ much. For once, she wasn't realm hopping over to the Enchanted Forest, or parading around Neverland, or even running about Storybrook dealing with magical endeavors, and her attention could fully focus on the town.

Which, according for the forecast, was going to be covered in about two feet of snow within the next thirty hours or so.

Sitting in the police station, Emma audibly groaned as she chanced a look out the window and saw the first flurries drifting to the ground. The roads had been salted earlier in the day, but she was still supposed to make a statement and issue warnings even though it had all already been done on paper. She wasn't really sure why they wanted her to say anything when it would just be a repeat of what Regina would be saying, and she had absolutely no idea why, for the love of all things warm and toasty, she had to wait for the news crew to come to her at the station, all for a two minute statement.

Her jacket was zipped all the way up, keeping her wool scarf tucked close around her neck, and her matching hat and gloves were already pulled on; as soon as the crew got there, she would be ready to say her statement, hop in the bug, drive the eight minutes it took to get home, and settle herself in for a night spent wrapped in blankets and drinking cocoa. Looking at the clock, she figured that if she had any luck at all, her plan of action would be completed before the blizzard warning went into effect in forty-nine minutes.

* * *

Fifty minutes of busy work, waiting, pacing, and thumb-twiddling later, it was apparent that luck was not on her side. She scowled at the paper she had written her statement on, which she had memorized at this point. What part of blizzard warning didn't make sense? She didn't care that they were a news crew, and she didn't care that she was the sheriff: blizzard meant crazy winds and almost no visibility, and the longer they waited, the worse it got.

In the middle of her mental rant, she only just noticed her phone ringing, and though she wanted it to be the news crew so she could tell them off, or maybe just give her statement over the phone, the caller ID was the first thing in the last hour to make her smile.

"Hey," she answered, the small smile on her lips.

"Emma." She heard Killian breathe a sigh of relief. "I thought you'd be home by now.

Her voice betrayed some of her annoyance at the current situation. "So did I," she replied. She looked out the window again and instantly regretted it as she registered the inch of snow that had already piled on the ground in the last hour. "The news crew is taking its sweet time getting over here."

"Did they give you a time?"

"Yeah, they were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago at the latest." She raised her eyes to the TV screen, which was muted, but had no breaking news headlines running across the banner on the screen. "I've had the channel on for a while but there hasn't been anything big going on other than storm coverage - oh, finally!" Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw the white van pull up to the front of the precinct.

"I'm assuming they've arrived?" Killian asked.

"They're getting out of the van right now," Emma said, getting up from her desk and heading to the door.

"Send me one of those word message things when you're done and coming home."

Emma couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. "You mean a text?"

"Yes, yes, one of those," he replied, and she could almost see him rolling his eyes. He was getting better with technology, just at a very slow pace.

"I will," she promised. "I'll see you at home."

* * *

The twenty minute wait for the news crew had turned into an hour, the two minute statement had turned into a twenty minute ordeal, and the eight minute car ride home would probably, by her rough estimates at this point, take close to thirty.

"_News crew took forever, just left, be home in 15,_" she texted Killian as she grabbed her bag and hurried to lock up the precinct. And then she got to her bug, which she had forgotten had accumulated almost two inches of snow and a decent amount of frost on the windshield. With a scowl, she turned on the car to start the heat and defroster, and grabbed the ice scrapper from the back seat. By the time she'd gotten enough ice off the front and back windshields to have somewhat decent visibility, she could hardly feel the tips of her fingers, and even pulling her scarf up over her nose didn't help the numbness in her cheeks and ears.

Inside the bug with the windshield wipers finishing her started work, she pulled out her phone and with painful, shaking fingers texted Killian again. "_Ice on the car, now home in 15._" With a steadying breath, she put the bug in drive, hoping that the snow she'd cleared away from the tires with her foot would be enough for the bug to get some traction, and she gently pressed on the gas.

A tear of joy may have frozen to her cheek as the bug rolled forward, crunching over the snow at what seemed to be a ridiculously slow speed, but crunching over the snow nonetheless. Between the accumulating snow, winds that kept buffeting the car, and near zero visibility, Emma barely hit fifteen miles an hour the whole way home, taking turns at a snail's pace and silently sending thank-yous to no one in particular that the car's traction continued to stay true.

"You can do this, you've got this," she muttered, just as much to herself as to the car, as she took what she knew was the last turn before she would reach home. About four hundred meters and two minutes later, she tapped the brake, more or less gliding to a stop next to the curb that was not yet completely covered in snow.

With a few calming but painfully frigid breaths, Emma shut off the car, grabbed her bag, and attempted to avoid any ice patches while still speed-walking up the steps and to the door. Even with gloves on, her numb fingers took forever to find her keys in her purse. Finally pulling them out, she fumbled with the key, her shaking hands unable to remain steady for long enough to get it in the key hole. "Oh, p-please, f-for the l-love of -" she groaned, just as the door suddenly opened and a hand grabbed hers, gently tugging her inside and into the lit foyer. The front door quickly slammed shut behind her.

"You do know that with the windchill, we're nearing sub-zero temperatures, right?" Killian asked. She tried to nod in response, but she wasn't sure if her body was actually obeying physical commands.

But Killian didn't really seem too concerned with the answer to his rhetorical question. He looked at her face and frowned, seeing the same pale skin and blue lips he had seen when she'd been trapped in Elsa's snow cave. "Let's fix this," he said, taking her bag from off her shoulder and placing it on the table next to the door. Her coat then made it over to the coat rack, followed by her scarf, hat, and gloves. He moved the large plastic tray where they placed their shoes to underneath the coat rack to catch any melting snow, and, after taking off one boot while her slowly warming fingers took care of the other, placed the boots on the tray as well.

"All right, Love, let's get you upstairs," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and guiding her up the steps.

"I-I'm okay," she said once she made it to the third step, pleased to find she was able to speak and walk, even if it was with some shaking.

Killian cast her a disbelieving sideways glance. "Your fingernails are purple."

"S-said I was okay," she replied, as they reached the top of the stairs and made their way to the bedroom, "n-not that I h-had thawed."

"Don't you worry, Love," Killian said, eyes suddenly bright, a smile tugging at his lips as he opened the bedroom door, "there will be plenty of time for that."

Stepping into the bedroom, Emma was suddenly greeted by a draft of warm air and the comforting scent of candles burning. A crackling sound grabbed her attention, and she turned to see the image of a wood fire playing on the television. Stifling back a little laugh, her eyes drifted over to the bed, where Killian had placed her favorite pair of sweatpants along with a tank top and zip-up hoodie.

"You take care of that," he said, nodding to the pajamas, "and I'll be right back." He walked out of the bedroom, keeping the door only open a crack to keep the extra heat inside, and she heard his footsteps go back downstairs.

Eager to be swaddled in fleece and cotton, Emma striped off her black jeans that were wet at the hem and her sweater that was wet at the neckline and sleeves, and threw them over the bar in the shower to dry. She scrambled into the warmth of the clothing, then grabbed at towel from the bathroom to dry the bits of her hair that were still wet from the snow and, she suspected, even partially frozen.

She had just pulled back the covers to climb into bed when the door opened again and Killian walked back in, holding a tray of food. She paused, one leg on the bed, one still standing, her mouth parted slightly. "What are you waiting for, an invitation?" he asked with a laugh and raised eyebrows, knowing she was rather awestruck. "I figured you'd be hungry."

Doing as she was told, Emma tucked herself in bed in a seated position, pulling the covers around her waist so Killian could settle the tray on her lap. She looked down at the bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup, accompanied by two halves of a toasted and buttered roll, as well as a mug of cocoa topped with a spray of whipped cream and a light dash of cinnamon.

"Killian," she said quietly as he joined her on the bed, settling underneath the covers beside her.

"What?" His eyes fixed on the tray, scanning the meal. "Did I forget something?"

She tilted his face towards hers. "Yes, actually, you did."

He grinned when he realized, and pressed a kiss to her lips. "So sorry about that," he muttered before going in for another kiss. "I'm a terrible boyfriend."

"Truly, the absolute worst," she agreed.

"I don't know why on earth you keep me around."

She shrugged. "I guess the food isn't that bad."

A grin spread across his lips. "Wait until you see what I have planned for tomorrow morning." Emma paused with a spoonful of soup halfway to her lips, one eyebrow raised in confusion and intrigue. "It's a surprise."

Emma blinked at him a few times, then sighed to herself and ate a mouthful of soup, feeling the satisfying heat spread through her chest. "So I just sit here for the next day or so and have you stuff me with food?"

"Well," he replied, looking thoughtful, "I suppose you could put it like that. But I think the better way to phrase it would be to have you just get warm." He smiled, suddenly a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And my first order of business with that as my goal," he said, leaning in to brush his lips against hers, "is to take care of those blue lips."

* * *

**Huzzah and yay for cuteness and fluff and Colin! And as a reminder, we're only forty days away from March 6th! :)**


	38. Friend

**Wow, so that was a longer break than anticipated. I suppose all I can do is apologize for disappearing for the last seven months. It's amazing how life gets in the way. Any who, I can't promise that I'm back like I used to be, but today for whatever reason just led me to post this. So this is a VERY alternate universe. It's actually loosely based on real events.**

* * *

35\. Friend

A smile spread across Emma's face as Henry ran out of the door of the school building. All around them, other parents were picking up their children, beaming in excitement; it was the last day of classes, marking the start of the upcoming holiday season.

"Excited for break?" Emma asked; she couldn't imagine how much work a ten-year-old had to do, but he was always surrounded by books anyway.

"I'm excited to sleep in," he replied, looking up at his mother with a grin. "And for Grandma and Grandpa to come over for Christmas."

"And by Grandma and Grandpa, you mean Grandma's chocolate mousse that she promised to make?"

"No," Henry replied with a mischievous grin, dragging out the 'o' sound. "I mean both, of course."

Emma laughed, ruffling her son's hair. "I am too," she admitted while wrapping an arm around his shoulder and hugging him close as they walked. And she was; according to David, it was the recipe that his mother used to make, and Mary Margaret managed to perfect it the exact same way.

"Henry, what are you doing?" She looked down and noticed her son's hand up, his body directed towards the building across the street.

"I'm waving at the man."

Emma's head snapped up in that direction. "What man?" she questioned, trying to keep sharpness out of her voice while she searched with her eyes.

And then she saw him, leaning against the sill at the second story window in the building across the street. Emma hid her discomfort with a small wave. The man hesitated, his hand pausing in the air. But then he smiled, and waved back at her.

"He's usually at the window, not in the morning but when we walk home," Henry explained simply. "He's my friend."

"Right," Emma mumbled, not entirely sure how comfortable she was with Henry's new friend. She placed her hand back on her son's shoulder protectively. She glanced at the street and realized they were at the corner of Snow and Gold street; it was the same building where Emma's father worked, and made a mental note to ask him if he knew anyone that worked on the second floor. "But he probably has lots of work to do and we shouldn't distract him, okay?"

"I guess so." Henry gave one last wave before dropping his hand, retaking Emma's, and continuing the walk home.

* * *

Killian couldn't help but smile as the boy spotted him and waved once again. He could still remember the first time he had seen the boy's mother, tall and blonde and breathtaking, and he hadn't been able to look away. She didn't notice, but the young boy did. Hoping he didn't come across as creepy, Killian had chanced a wave. A huge grin had spread across the boy's face, and he waved back.

For a few weeks, that continued, most days when Killian managed to time his break correctly.

And then she saw.

And then she waved.

Killian's mind went blank; his hand froze in mid-wave before he remembered the natural thing to do was respond in kind. He smiled.

She didn't. She actually seemed to pick up her pace a bit, and placed a protective arm around her son. It was an unsure, wary kind of reaction, the type that could be expected when a strange, unknown man waved at a young woman's son. Killian dropped his hand, grimacing to himself; no doubt she was on her way home, and he would be a conversation topic for her and her husband.

"I'll admit, Jones," Killian's boss said, moving to stand next to him at the window, "she is beautiful. But you know what else is beautiful?" Killian turned to face his boss, a sigh on his lips. "That pile of paperwork sitting on your desk."

"You know," Killian replied, taking one last glance out the window at the woman's retreating figure before standing upright and walking back towards his desk, "for some strange reason, it's really just not the same."

* * *

**Fun Story Time! So, as I said, this is based on true events. It's actually the first part of the story of how my grandparents met (with some embellishment). My grandmother was a school teacher and she would always walk her nephew (her brother's son) home from the school. My grandfather would see her from his office window (he didn't wave though) and thought she was beautiful, but he also assumed that her nephew was actually her son, and that she was married. The details are a little fuzzy for me, but there was a work-related party where they met. He ended up getting her number, and he called a day or so later. Problem: My grandmother wasn't home when he called. Solution: My grandmother's brother's wife WAS home, answered the phone, pretended to be my grandmother, and accepted the date. They got married six months later.**

**Today happens to be my grandfather's birthday, and when I suddenly remembered that I had written this, I felt the need to post it.**


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